


Change Me (If You Dare)

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, M/M, Manipulation, Mentor/Protégé, Mind Games, Table Sex, Trust Issues, Wall Sex, partners in crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 17:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3298508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Spoilers for episode "Naka-Choko" (S.02 E.10) onward]</p><p>
  <i>"I have a confession to make, Will." There were many confessions Will had been trying to drag from Hannibal's lips. Will glanced back sharply, no doubt wondering what Hannibal was willing to share. Preparing for the worst. "I have fantasized about us."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Like this?" Will turned back to face the boarded-up window and wall. "Partners in... death?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Yes... But beyond this moment of revelation."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"What lies beyond this?"</i>
</p><p>After Will kills Randall Tier, Hannibal knows with certainty that they are equals meant to evolve together. He will do whatever is necessary to help Will accept and embrace his potential, and acknowledge Hannibal as his partner in life and death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This story begins alongside the episode "Naka-Choko" (Season 2, episode 10) and weaves among canon until the season 2 finale with some slight alterations. Then the story branches out beyond the finale. Noting this, there are obviously spoilers for episode 10 – 13.

Hannibal walked into the room slowly, taking in the sight of Will standing at the head of the table, overlooking his kill. Randall Tier, sprawled like a limp rag doll across the table’s surface. Neck snapped at an awkward angle, eyes unseeing, and cuts and bruises dealt pre-mortem marring his face. Not Will's first kill; that title went to Garret Jacob Hobbs. But the first kill Will had made for _himself_ – not for the FBI and not to save any life but his own.

 

Hannibal turned only long enough to close the door behind him before turning back as Will spoke his first words. “I’d say this makes us even.” Will’s eyes were still on his kill, but Hannibal had no doubt that Will was speaking directly to him. “I sent someone to kill you. You sent someone to kill me.” Hannibal kept his gaze steady until Will finally looked up and their eyes locked. “Even Steven.”

 

Hannibal gave the tiniest nod of acknowledgement, accepting Will’s terms, and then spoke. “Consider it an act of reciprocity.”

 

Will almost laughed, amusement curling his lips but not reaching his eyes. “Polite society normally places such a taboo on taking life.”

 

“Without death we would be at a loss,” Hannibal mused aloud as he stepped closer to the table, studying Will’s handiwork in greater detail. “It’s the prospect of death that drives us to greatness. Did you kill him with your hands?”

 

Will’s unwavering stare had returned to Randall’s body as well, following Hannibal’s direction of attention. “It was… intimate.” His voice was hushed; a secret for only Hannibal to hear as Will looked down and flexed his bloodied hand.

 

“He deserves intimacy. You were Randall Tier’s final enemy.” Hannibal walked along the length of the table to stand at Will’s side, drawn to the energy Will was emitting. How long he had been waiting for this, for Will to take that last step over the line he had drawn long ago in his mind and join Hannibal on the other side.

 

Hannibal reached down to lift Will’s injured hand, one hand resting on Will’s forearm while their palms slotted together. As if Hannibal might be inviting Will out on their first waltz around the dance floor. In a way that was exactly what he was doing, and Will didn’t withdraw his hand from Hannibal’s touch. Hannibal studied Will’s bruised and bloodied knuckles, feeling something pleasant squirm inside him.

 

He was grateful for his practiced mask of neutrality so that he did not have to fight hard to keep his expression calm. So very different from what Hannibal felt inside, like a spark catching flame as he overlooked Will. It would’ve been easier if Randall had killed Will; simplified the future riddled with possibilities ahead of them both. But there wasn’t an ounce of Hannibal that was disappointed to find Randall the one with blank eyes.

 

Will’s expression, formerly so hesitant and lost, was now sharp and steady. His eyes, tracking every shift of movement from Hannibal even if he would not directly meet Hannibal’s gaze, were feral, Will’s skin flushed with life. At last, Hannibal had found Will’s true self and brought him to light.

 

Hannibal had seen this potential from the start, but had feared Will was too weak to survive crossing his internal line. It would not have done well to place too much faith in Will only to have him cut down at the first encounter of adversity. Now, with blood not his own smeared across Will’s skin, Hannibal was certain he had finally found his equal.

 

Without words, palms still brushing, they began their first dance. Hannibal moved towards the kitchen and Will fell in step behind him. Will allowed himself to be led into one of the kitchen chairs and remained where Hannibal left him as Hannibal found a clean-looking basin from one of the kitchen cabinets and filled it with warm water. At Will’s direction Hannibal grabbed the first-aid kit from Will’s bathroom and then took the second kitchen chair.

 

Again Will allowed Hannibal to lift and lower his hand into the warm water. For a few greedy moments Hannibal watched the blood spiral up and stain the water. He only resumed his work when Will glanced over at him, eyebrows furrowed. Will gave a tiny wince when Hannibal first brushed his split skin, but then Will stared blankly ahead while Hannibal cleaned his wounds.

 

Hannibal kept his movements efficient but more gentle than strictly necessary. He didn’t have to worry about Will noticing or questioning it; as the seconds dragged into minutes, Will’s expression slackened as he withdrew into his own thoughts. “Don’t go inside, Will.” Not a plea, but not as conversational as Hannibal had intended the words to sound. “You’ll want to retreat. You’ll want it, as the glint of the rail tempts us when we hear the approaching train. Stay with me.”

 

“Where else would I go?” Will’s voice was gravelly, hinting at oncoming exhaustion as adrenaline drained.

 

Hannibal bandaged Will’s knuckles, making no effort to avoid unnecessary contact of skin. “You have everywhere to go. You should be quite pleased. I am.”

 

“Of course you are.” Will’s words were full of contempt and Hannibal struggled to keep his mouth in a neutral line, though he felt his jaw twitch slightly. Will should be celebrating in this but he was still fighting his metamorphosis, making it a painful transition rather than a natural blossoming.

 

“When you killed Randall, did you fantasize you were killing me?” That was enough to draw Will’s eyes upward. The look Hannibal was rewarded with was primal and predatory, filled with calculated anger. There was no doubt that it had been Hannibal’s neck Will had envisioned snapping. To some degree Will blamed Hannibal for this, and Hannibal accepted that. He had done what was necessary. “Most of what we do; most of what we believe is motivated by death.”

 

“I’ve never felt as alive as I did when I was killing him.” Will’s voice was shaky, but certain. He didn’t blink.

 

“Then you owe Randall Tier a debt. How will you repay him?” As one they looked over at the body, left behind on the table.

 

“I have an idea,” Will said, eyes not straying. “But I need to get into the Museum of Natural History.”

 

“I can help with that,” Hannibal said easily.

 

Will glanced back. “You’re coming with me?”

 

Hannibal allowed a twitch of a smile to break through. As if he would be anywhere but at Will’s side right now, relishing in his fledgling’s experience. “Of course.”

 

Will may have the experience with methods of killing and the motivations driving them from his empathetic study of killers, but he had minimal practical experience in a proper cleanup. Hannibal ensured that he provided the tips and guiding hand required to avoid any trace of DNA that might lead the police back to Will’s doorstep but otherwise stayed out of Will’s way as he dealt with the body as he saw fit. Hannibal refused to let the law steal his prodigy away from him, but was also loathe to in any way affect Will’s developing style for death.

 

After getting Will into the museum, he watched from a few paces away as Will began working on his monument. “Jack will surely call you in on this case when they discover your work,” Hannibal said. Though his words rang with warning, they were spurred by pride as he watched Will’s design come together. For a first-timer, Will’s work was enthralling. There was no way Jack could ignore this.

 

“I know.” There was no touch of concern in Will’s tone.

 

“Have you thought about what you will say?”

 

Will was silent for more than a minute but Hannibal didn’t ask again. Eventually Will paused in his work long enough to provide an answer. “The truth; mostly. They’ll look right at me but through me. They won’t be looking to connect it with me.”

 

“I should like to be there with you.”

 

Will shrugged as he refocused on the last touches of his work. Hannibal pursed his lips at being ignored but reminded himself to forgive Will’s rudeness; there were more pressing details in Will’s mind at the moment. When Will was satisfied they made their way together back to Hannibal’s car, Hannibal erasing any hint of their presence behind them.

 

“What do you plan to do until Jack calls you?” Hannibal asked as he parked his car next to Will’s and cut the engine. Although the bruises beneath Will’s eyes were mildly troubling, Hannibal wouldn’t be foolish enough to suggest that Will attempt sleep now. With Hannibal tending to his wounds in the warm safety of his kitchen, Will had become dozy. But after constructing his monument, energy was pulsing off Will again. He wouldn’t sleep for a while.

 

Will scrubbed at his face with his hands before looking at his own house through Hannibal’s windshield. Slowly his euphoria from his kill was fading into a grim expression. “I haven’t cleaned Buster’s wounds yet.” Will shot Hannibal a glare out of the corner of his eye; a clear hint that he blamed Hannibal for the injuries to his dog. “And I’ll need to board up my broken window before the next snowfall.”

 

“I will assist you,” Hannibal offered as he stepped out of his car and back into the biting air.

 

“Why?” Will demanded when he caught up with Hannibal on his front porch.

 

“Does a friend need a reason to assist another friend in need?” Hannibal posed the question, standing aside while Will unlocked his front door.

 

“Does a friend send someone to kill another friend?” Will shot back.

 

Hannibal smiled pleasantly. “You tell me, Will.”

 

Will scowled. “It’s probably a good indication of who we consider to be a friend…” Their eyes met. “Or not.”

 

“I will keep it in mind,” Hannibal said. Despite Will’s words, Hannibal did not receive any violent objection when he followed Will into the house. Hannibal would’ve considered making coffee but he had seen the state of Will’s coffee maker shoved into a corner of the kitchen when tending to Will’s hand, and he refused to touch it for fear of contamination.

 

Instead Hannibal took the chair least coated in dog fur in the living room and sat down. He kept his coat on, the house chilled from the air drifting in through the shattered panes of glass. Will had retrieved a different kit from the one Hannibal had used for Will’s hand and re-entered the living room, animal kit under one arm and Buster under the other.

 

The dog gave a little yelp of pain and tried to pry himself from Will’s grasp at the first touch of cloth to the cuts that must lie below the blood-matted fur. Will held him just tightly enough to keep him in place and shushed him as he resumed his work. Will continued to provide little soothing noises and mumbled reassurances under his breath, keeping Buster calm and still to avoid further injury.

 

Hannibal allowed his eyes to drift halfway closed, though still open wide enough to watch Will work. There was something about the noises Will was making that soothed Hannibal’s thoughts the way only sliding a knife beneath skin or preparing a lavish dinner could. Will glanced up but mistook Hannibal’s tranquility for something else.

 

“Bored, Doctor Lecter?”

 

“Quite the contrary.”

 

Hannibal was a god of death, passing judgement and taking away the lives of those who had forfeited their right to it. Will was something else entirely. He had always possessed the ability to take away life, understood the mechanics and was well on his way to enjoying the thrill of power that making such a decision could instil. But Will also had the gift to preserve life, with a natural instinct to protect the lives of others before his own.

 

It was no wonder why Will had spent his whole life confused, conflicted and isolated from the world and the people around him. Everything about Will's nature was powerful and polarized. Will was a god between life and death, between worlds, and had the ability to choose which side of that veil any given person should – and would – reside on.

 

Hannibal enjoyed watching Will's hands move. The ability to preserve life had never been one he envied, having nothing or no one that he had the motivation to protect. Now, at the very least, he respected the gift. It forced Hannibal to accept his own inadequacies when he remembered his faulty attempts to preserve Will. Normally Hannibal disliked his weaknesses being highlighted but he didn't begrudge Will for this. It merely made Hannibal eager to learn and add to his repertoire.

 

By now Buster had been tended to and Will was gently moving the dog onto the chair while he himself stood. Will disappeared with the kit and returned a few minutes later with a long stretch of plywood and a toolbox. His eyes skirted over Hannibal but Will didn't comment on Hannibal's sustained presence as he approached the broken window. It was as Will hammered in the last nail and sealed off the winter's reach that Hannibal parted his lips.

 

"I have a confession to make, Will." There were many confessions Will had been trying to drag from Hannibal's lips. Will glanced back sharply, no doubt wondering what Hannibal was willing to share. Preparing for the worst. "I have fantasized about us."

 

"Like this?" Will turned back to face the boarded-up window and wall. "Partners in... death?"

 

"Yes... But beyond this moment of revelation."

 

"What lies beyond this?"

 

Hannibal stood from his chair and moved to stand directly behind Will, chest to back. One hand held Will's hip and the other rested on his chest. "Your heart is racing." Hannibal pressed his palm more tightly against the flutter of Will's heart. "Was it racing when you killed Randall?"

 

"No."

 

"Then it would not be too presumptuous of me to assume that this is my effect on you."

 

Will's words were tight, torn from his throat unwillingly. "You wouldn't be wrong."

 

Certain now that he wouldn't be rebuffed, Hannibal continued with the only confession he had ever been willing to make. "It is true that I imagined... hoped for this. I saw your potential as soon as I met you. I wanted to be where I am now," his fingers clutched a little tighter at Will's body. "By your side and sharing in the reverence of the first kill you made for yourself."

 

Will turned his face just enough that Hannibal could see the clench of his jaw. "You fancy being my mentor."

 

Hannibal pressed a half-inch closer, breathing in Will's essence. "Am I not already?"

 

Will's tongue dragged along his bottom lip. Hannibal wondered if it was a subconscious action or if Will was already beginning to display himself for Hannibal. "You mentioned... beyond this moment."

 

Hannibal dragged his fingers down Will's front until his nails skimmed the hem of Will's shirt. Hannibal did not require Will's permission for this, but he wanted it. Just as he wanted Will to give in to his instinct to wipe life from this planet, Hannibal also wanted Will to acknowledge the desire between them. Will may be a newcomer to killing humans rather than hunting game, but he was still Hannibal's equal. They were together on a plane well above the rest of humanity, and the end goal of survival and evolution was to mate with someone of equal standing.

 

He received no objection from Will to the movement of his hand although Will's body remained tense and poised. Hannibal slipped his hand beneath Will's shirt, hand splayed across the warm skin of Will's vulnerable abdomen, nails lightly scraping the coarse hairs above Will's belt.

 

"You have always been an exquisite creature I have longed to taste and devour." Hannibal spoke with true conviction he would trust with no one but Will. "But now after taking Randall's life I can smell the exuberance on you and you are divinely intoxicating."

 

"You're already with Alana Bloom," Will said as a form of objection with an expression of severe dislike, though Hannibal was fully aware of Will's body willingly remaining pinned between the wall and Hannibal's body.

 

"She serves a purpose."

 

"What purpose?" Will demanded.

 

"An alibi," Hannibal said. "She is someone who can be blinded and can sway opinions in the direction I point her." _Nothing more_.

 

"And you thought it would hurt me if it was Alana," Will added with a bite.

 

"Does it hurt you?" Hannibal's thumb traced the dip of Will's navel.

 

"Yes. But not in the way I expected." Will's teeth weathered his bottom lip, turning the red skin white at each indent. "You were obsessed with me, once."

 

"Were?"

 

Will's eyebrows furrowed as he turned his head another inch to study Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. "Are?"

 

"Is it not obvious?" While Hannibal's thumb pressed ever so slightly into Will's navel, his other fingers brushed just beneath Will's waistband.

 

Will's body shuddered against Hannibal's own and Will tilted his head just enough to show off the column of his neck. Definitely displaying himself. "Is that why you didn't kill me even when I discovered your nature and became a threat?"

 

Hannibal was careful with his words. "My thoughts never hovered over ways to dispose of you."

 

"Why is that?"

 

Hannibal's traced Will's offered neck with his eyes hungrily, but was sidetracked by his amusement. "Are you my psychiatrist now?"

 

"This..." Will's voice wavered. "It will only work if there are no more lies between us."

 

He considered this, lips pursed. If he wanted Will as a mate – as more than a puzzle or a plaything – they would truly have to accept a level playing field. Being with Will would be a constant challenge; a fight for dominance that neither would ever truly win – nor lose. They couldn't lose when they still had a partner in the other who could understand on a deeper level than any in the past had hoped to achieve.

 

"I was always genuine about my desire for your friendship."

 

"You haven't been a very good friend," Will accused.

 

Hannibal remembered his attempts to help Will, and the miscalculations he had made. "Perhaps not. Would you ever accept an apology?"

 

"Not now. Not yet." Will turned back to face the wall. "How do I know you're not just looking for an opportunity to get me vulnerable? To remove the last person alive who knows your true self?"

 

"What would you do if I was?"

 

Will didn't respond and Hannibal, so close to finally possessing everything he had come to want, grew impatient. It was as Hannibal's hand pushed beneath Will's waistband and encircled his cock – almost half-hard – that Will released a shaky breath and let his head fall back to rest against Hannibal's shoulder. "I'm not sure," he confessed. "This."

 

"You desire this with me," Hannibal stated. His hand squeezed Will's shaft a little too tightly when Will didn't speak. "Say it, Will."

 

Will's eyes fluttered closed in sync with the parting of his lips. " _Yes_."

 

It was enough for Hannibal. He circled the pad of his thumb around the crown of Will's cock while his fingers held the shaft, feeling it twitch and harden at the attention. With their bodies pressed so tightly together, it was easy for Hannibal to pick up on each shift and sigh of pleasure as Will gave in to Hannibal's ministrations. It didn't take long for Hannibal to learn that Will's hips would buck forward instinctively each time Hannibal dipped a nail into the slit of his cock; just enough pain to bind them together in this moment.

 

One hand began to pump Will tightly from root to tip and back down, pace slow but unrelenting. Hannibal's other hand kept a harsh grip on Will's hip even though there was no fear of Will escaping this now. He would leave bruises. One of Will's hands had slammed against the wall, steadying them both, while the other held Hannibal's over his hip. Wanting those bruises.

 

While Will in public was normally self-contained, almost shy, alone in this moment with Hannibal he channelled a wild animal in heat. His teeth were bared as his nails dug into the wallpaper and Hannibal's skin, his breathing sharp in the otherwise quiet house. Soon each twist of Hannibal's fist around Will's length drew a groan; each abuse to the slit of his cock, a snarl.

 

Hannibal's control only began to fray the moment Will rutted his ass back against Hannibal's crotch. With no one to witness his moment of wavering weakness, Hannibal allowed his eyes to slip closed. His lips parted a mere sliver to turn his intake of breath into a hiss. Hannibal stroked Will's cock more firmly, skin overheated and raw from friction, and allowed Will to rock his body back against Hannibal in an increasingly-frantic rhythm.

 

A part of Hannibal wished to pin Will flat against the wall with his body, make him unable to seek any pleasure but what Hannibal offered to him. But in this moment Hannibal was pleased to feel Will squirming against him, thrusting his cock into Hannibal's hand and then grinding against Hannibal's erection with each stuttered breath. Hannibal knew Will was getting close judging by the throbbing of his cock and the desperate jerky movements of his body.

 

As he continued to stroke Will, Hannibal gently shook off Will's hand with his own. The back of his hand was scored from Will's nails and Hannibal moved it from Will's hip up to the collar of his shirt and coat. Neither of them had taken off their outer layers even though the window had been patched up, and Hannibal could see sweat beading on the back of Will's neck as his breath grew laboured.

 

By now Will was the one doing the majority of the work, fucking Hannibal's fist and providing the friction Hannibal needed for heat to pool in his belly. Hannibal clutched the fabric of Will's shirt and coat and pulled it aside, revealing the unblemished skin from Will's neck to his shoulder. "You are mine, Will," Hannibal spoke against Will's overheated skin.

 

"Make me—make me yours," Will choked out and with a hum, Hannibal bit his predatory smile into Will's skin just above his clavicle. Will arched violently between Hannibal and the wall, his whole body wracked with spasms as he coated Hannibal's palm with his seed. Even as Will's cock continued to pulse, the last few drops of come trickling from his tip, Will flung a hand back and gripped Hannibal's hip to slam their bodies more forcefully together.

 

Hannibal allowed his hips to rock into Will as he dragged the flat of his tongue across his bite. The mark would last for days. "Whose are you, Will?"

 

Seeming to realize that Hannibal wasn't going to move away, Will's hand shot from Hannibal's hip to yank at his hair, dragging Hannibal's mouth back to Will's skin. "Yours. And you're a fool if you think you're not mine."

 

The possessive grip in his hair and the greedy claim was not what Hannibal had been expecting. Nor was his body's instinctive reaction as the heat inside him finally swelled above his carefully-constructed walls and overflowed. He bit another mark into Will's skin, drinking in his cry as Hannibal spilled his pleasure into his tailored pants.

 

Will slumped forward against the wall while Hannibal continued to lap at his skin, memorizing his taste. Then he carefully withdrew his hand from Will's pants and licked up Will's pleasure until his hand was moist but mostly clean. How many times Hannibal had imagined cutting into Will, consuming everything that made up his physical being. Yet this was so much better. The same benefit to making a hen comfortable and happy to enjoy years of yield, rather than cutting off the head and enjoying one lavish – but short-lived – meal.

 

Hannibal pulled himself away from Will's warm body, carefully removing his coat before straightening his suit as best he could. He wasn't accustomed to being this rumpled in front of anyone and, although the heated expression Will gave him as he leaned his back against the wall and looked Hannibal over was pleasing, Hannibal still felt unsettled. Perhaps that was another aspect of what it would mean to have a mate in Will, rather than an affair with anyone else.

 

"You don't need to stay any longer," Will said after a few heavy moments of silence. "You got what you wanted."

 

"And you didn't?" Hannibal, satiated but always hungry, drank in Will's debauched expression. Will blushed and averted his eyes. Hannibal returned to Will's personal space, the hand marked by Will's nails holding the shape of Will's neck. Hannibal's thumb soothed Will's jaw until it slackened, Will finally looking back uncertainly. "If all I wanted was physical release then I would have Doctor Bloom."

 

Will slapped Hannibal's hand away. "It's her or me. I don't share."

 

"I respect that," Hannibal said evenly. He returned his hand to Will's throat but gave no hint of threat or danger. "Her uses are coming to an end, as is my affair with her." Will's eyes searched Hannibal's own. "It could never be anyone but you, Will."

 

When Will swallowed, Hannibal felt it against his palm. "You don't just want me to hunt with you," Will spoke slowly, treading carefully for fear of being betrayed by the ground beneath him. Hannibal shook his head. Will licked his lips. "You want me to be your friend... partner and..." a private memory seemed to flit behind Will's eyes; a dream perhaps. "Your beloved. I am your everything."

 

The danger of choosing an empath as a mate. Hannibal was curious about where that word choice was born from, but Hannibal would not back down or be sidetracked at the moment. "As I am yours, in this world."

 

Will didn't seem to know what to say but he nodded, and that was enough for now. "I'm going to shower so I don't look like I got fucked against a wall when Jack calls me in," Will said. There was even a hint of amusement in his words despite the uncertain tension in the room. "Are you heading home?"

 

"Do you wish me to leave?"

 

Will's eyes flickered down to the wrinkled front of Hannibal's pants and then back up. "I can't imagine you of all people being comfortable strolling around in creamed pants." Which wasn't a ' _yes_ '.

 

Still, a breath of space might do them both good to refasten the bindings of their masks before being forced to rejoin the view of society. "I will go home to shower and change. It would be questionable for us to arrive on the scene at the same time," he reasoned.

 

They both wavered for a long, drawn-out moment, and then Hannibal refastened his coat and left without a verbal farewell.

 

#

 

Hannibal and Jack flanked Will, each watching over one shoulder as Will did what he did best. Except this time, Will was describing himself; his own kill and his own design. Jack was not aware of this, listening only for clues and a direction in which Will would point him. Hannibal hung on Will's every word as well, but for different motives. First, he would watch over his creation and ensure he did not risk exposure. Second, and just as much of a selfish pleasure as the first, Hannibal allowed Will to guide him with a mental hand on his own as he put the inner workings of his mind and imagination on display.

 

It was fascinating and precious.

 

"There's a familiarity here. Someone who met him, understood him," Will spoke the facts clearly and calmly. "Someone like him. Different pathology; same instinct."

 

"This killer empathized with him?" Jack questioned, catching onto a thread Hannibal had hoped the man would miss. Still, Hannibal remained where he was, expressionless. He would do what he had to in order to keep Will safe if necessary, but trusted Will to handle this.

 

“Don’t mistake understanding for empathy, Jack," Will corrected smoothly. There wasn't a hint of fear over the fact that Jack had, however briefly, grasped at the most powerful word that could potentially tie this to Will. "If anything, it’s envy.”

 

“Envy?” Jack echoed.

 

“Randall Tier came into his own much easier than whoever killed him.” A truth that only Hannibal could fully appreciate Will sharing.

 

“This is a fledgling killer," Hannibal added. It was almost entertaining, dangling the truth right in front of Jack's unseeing eyes. It would remain entertaining as long as no one threatened their partnership. "He has never killed before; not like this.”

 

Will turned his head slightly to the side, the barest incline in Hannibal's direction. “Not like this, no," Will agreed. "This is the nightmare that followed him out of his dreams.”

 

Hannibal did not miss the haunted undertones of Will's words but he knew, with time, Will would come to accept this, relish in it, and flourish at Hannibal's side. Shortly after Will was done with the profile of himself, Jack thanked both men and allowed them to leave the crime scene. They had arrived separately but their cars were parked side by side, and though they didn't linger, their hands brushed in an unnecessary fashion before they parted ways to enter their own vehicles and head home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief hint of Hannibal/Alana (like 2 paragraphs) for plot purposes in keeping in line with canon.

"Why did you invite me to this?" Hannibal glanced up from the suckling pig he had briefly pulled from the oven to ensure it was roasting evenly. Will continued, "I'm sure Alana won't want me here and I'm not thrilled either."

 

Hannibal returned his attention to the pig and, pleased with its progress, slotted it back into the oven on the rack above the sausages of his own making. "We each have roles to maintain for our shared survival."

 

Will huffed, less than amused by this particular role Hannibal insisted on maintaining. "But why was I invited over first?" Will wondered.

 

Hannibal's expression remained even as he returned to the counter Will was leaning against. He had pre-emptively set out a cutting board and the vegetables he needed cut up to mix in with the rice already cooking slowly. Hannibal plucked a sharpened knife from his knife block and pressed the handle into Will's palm. "For the ruse that you are to assist me with preparing the table and meal."

 

"The ruse," Will repeated as his hand flexed around the knife's handle.

 

He couldn't stop his eyes from lingering on the sight of that slice of metal in Will's capable hand; imagine what he could do with such a finely-sharpened blade. Hannibal could feel the shape of his own smile. "Truthfully I wanted to enjoy your company alone since you will not be the one staying tonight."

 

Will rolled the knife's handle over and over in his palm, comfortable with the weight of the weapon. "You're so casual about it."

 

"Alana still has a part to play," Hannibal reasoned, unperturbed by what was simmering below Will's skin. It could quickly catch fire and burn as something hotter, more passionate.

 

As Hannibal turned away and stirred the rice, Will spoke blandly, "Are you sure that's all it is?"

 

"Sex has always been a means to an end for me," Hannibal explained. He had never had anyone in his life he felt close enough to that he felt comfortable sharing these inner workings of his motivations and strategies. Telling Will these little truths was unnerving but also surprisingly freeing. Because he knew Will would understand. "A way to tempt someone into seeing me as a soft-edged lover rather than a man to be scrutinized for the pieces that do not entirely align."

 

"Is that your goal with me?" Will didn't sound hurt, just resigned.

 

Hannibal approached Will slowly until there was a mere inch of space between them. Will with his back against the counter, and Hannibal framing him in. "If you would fall for that then I would not have chosen you," Hannibal said. He touched Will's hand and Will allowed him to remove the knife and set it on the counter.

 

At first Hannibal was surprised when he could read clear conflict on Will's face. He knew Will had a skilled poker face; just over one week ago he had profiled himself while standing in front of the remains of Randall Tier Will had cut apart himself. It left Hannibal wondering how much of it was his own skill at reading Will, and how much of it was Will ever so slowly opening himself up to Hannibal. Both ideas pleased Hannibal greatly.

 

"I'll be the one ushered out of the door in a few hours," the words seemed uncomfortable to Will. Maybe they were. Will shared Hannibal's dislike of showing any form of weakness, of admitting to any chink in the armour.

 

"Another reason why I wished to have you to myself first before being rudely interrupted," Hannibal trusted Will with his desire.

 

He closed the distance between them, echoing their previous encounter with their bodies moulded together, chest to chest this time; allowing Hannibal to feel the push of their chests rising and falling against one another. While Hannibal was dressed in his normal attire – shirt, waistcoat, tie and suit jacket – Will had chosen a comfortable denim shirt open at the collar and a warm but scratchy jacket that could've more easily been mistaken for an oddly formal sweater.

 

With calculated movements Hannibal moved in. His thigh slotted between Will's legs, turning him ever-so-slightly bow-legged in the most appealing way. In the same motion Hannibal's hand pulled back the collars of Will's shirt and jacket. He admired the two marks he had left on Will's skin previously; faded now but still shadowing Will's body. Hannibal bent his head to darken those marks but was stopped by a hand gently cupping his jaw and Will's questioning words, "If you know I won't be fooled by that, then why?"

 

Hannibal met his gaze strongly and offered his second confession. "Because we all have a weakness, Will."

 

After those words Will didn't stop Hannibal from descending and sucking at the marks on his skin, lightly at first and then harder until they were satisfactorily red. Hannibal dragged his tongue against Will's skin and sank his teeth in anew when Will began to ride his thigh. He pressed his thigh up a little harder, causing Will to groan quietly and grip at Hannibal's shoulders. Hannibal couldn't think in that moment of wrinkled fabric.

 

Deft fingers pried apart Will's jacket and shirt until the fabric fluttered open, his chest bare. Hannibal's fingers traced designs he could imagine inflicting with a blade in Will's skin, though only deep enough to claim. Again Hannibal adjusted the angle of his leg until Will was forced up onto his toes to find the proper angle to rock his growing erection against the hard muscle of Hannibal's thigh. The noises escaping from Will's lips turned breathy and his nails dug in, anchoring himself and giving in to his need.

 

Hannibal watched the flush creep from Will's cheeks to his ears and down his neck, kissing and nipping the progression of Will's life pulsing through his veins. He began to press against Will rhythmically, adding extra friction each time Will's clothed cock rubbed against him. Knowing that he could mark Will, that no one but he would get to view this skin and map each bite and the meaning behind each indent of teeth into flesh, Hannibal scattered marks across Will's chest until he was peppered with red.

 

"Are you going to come for me here, Will?" Hannibal asked. "In my kitchen as I taste you like a fine meal to be savoured?"

 

His hands found Will's hips. Will breathed a laugh as they began to move as one, a rough and demanding sway of their bodies between the anchors locked into Hannibal's shoulders and Will's hips. "When you say it like that..." Will said and bit his bottom lip, his eyes on Hannibal's face.

 

Hannibal relished in the gift Will offered, allowing Hannibal to watch his face the moment his body broke and pleasure consumed him into the gulf. Will gave a weak cry just for him as his back bowed against the angle of the counter, pulling Hannibal with him so that their bodies remained locked together. Hannibal kissed the sweat from Will's skin while Will fucked his thigh, shuddering violently at each additional drag of friction against his cock as come filled his underwear.

 

"You like it..." Will paused to swallow thickly, still holding tight to Hannibal's shoulders. "You like watching me, don't you?"

 

"Yes."

 

Will smiled slightly, which was a good sign. Maybe Will would not fight this for as long as Hannibal had originally estimated. He watched as Will's eyes took in Hannibal himself; the perfectly put-together suit minus the wrinkled fabric, the whites of his knuckles where he held Will's hips and the noticeable bulge at the front of his suit pants. "What about you?"

 

Despite the desire throbbing through Hannibal's body – harder to contain than he had planned – Hannibal knew they were running short on time. He had only wanted to watch the glaze of Will's eyes and the arch of his presented body as Will sought his pleasure through Hannibal's body and found his release. "That was not my intention for tonight."

 

Will's eyes sharpened, smile fading to a determined stare. Hannibal's attention split between Will's face and the sensation of Will's hand brushing down his front. Hannibal considered fighting him. Will could sense it. "As your beloved, don't I get an equal say?"

 

"You are attempting to manipulate me." Hannibal was intrigued.

 

"Am I?"

 

"You have an interesting choice of words," Hannibal noted. "One you have used twice now."

 

Will didn't explain himself further. "Is it true?"

 

"Yes," Hannibal answered generally, because there were a lot of questions that could be answered in the same way.

 

Will seemed pleased by the answer but his hand stopped its trek towards Hannibal's belt. Instead Hannibal felt the weight of Will's hand leave his own body and instead watched as Will pressed down on his new bite marks. "Would you let me give you matching marks?"

 

Hannibal's gaze was transfixed when he saw the twitch at the corner of Will's mouth, a tease of pain born from Will pressing down harder with his fingers just to make the bruises ache. "They would be very difficult to explain."

 

Will was watching him in return. "That wasn't a 'no'."

 

"No, it wasn't."

 

He was considered closely. "Have you ever let anyone else mark you before?"

 

There were no memories to cast his mind back to retrieve. "Not the way I'd let you mark me." Will didn't say anything further. Hannibal was still hard in his pants as he watched Will dig fingers into the claims Hannibal had left, but he was aware of the clock ticking away the time. "I think it would be prudent for us both to freshen up and then you can begin chopping the vegetables."

 

It felt like Will's gaze had a physical weight when he eyed Hannibal's crotch, but Will merely shrugged and headed down the hall to the washroom he had passed near the front door. Hannibal brushed his hands down his front, smoothing out his suit jacket and pants as much as possible, and walked upstairs. He required a few minutes of forcefully keeping Will from his mind – a difficult task these days after his months of obsession – and some cold water to get his body satisfactorily under control.

 

By the time he returned to the kitchen the vegetables had been cut and Will was fiddling with the kitchen knife absent-mindedly. "Do you like it?"

 

Will looked over and then down at the knife. "It's a different weight from my hunting knife."

 

"You can help with the fruit next," Hannibal pointed to the fridge. He took the cutting board and pushed the vegetables into the steaming pot of rice, mixing it all in while Will looked through his fridge critically. "There are grapes and two pomegranates in the bottom drawer."

 

"What do you want me to do with them?" Will asked when he had finished washing everything.

 

"Get a plate from the cupboard," Hannibal instructed. "Leave the grapes and split the pomegranates into halves. I'll arrange them when everything is prepared."

 

He closed his eyes and felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine each time Will split a pomegranate. Hannibal could imagine it as the sound that filled the living room when Will snapped Randall Tier's neck. "Done."

 

Hannibal watched out of the corner of his eye as Will washed the red liquid from his fingers. "Set the table next, please. Alana should be arriving shortly. When you are finished, choose your seat and remain in it."

 

Will left without a word and Hannibal focused on the last of his preparations. Five minutes before Alana's expected arrival time Hannibal entered the dining room, taking in the sight. Although he had not been ordered to do so, Will had set a warm fire in the fireplace and then taken the seat in front of it, his face cast in flickering shadows. Will's eyes were unseeing, his thoughts elsewhere.

 

Warmth from the fire engulfed him as Hannibal moved to Will's side. Up close he could see the flush that the heat had stirred in Will's cheeks. Hannibal brushed his knuckles over the swell of Will's cheekbone and Will glanced up. Words were not needed as they shared a comfortable silence, and Hannibal's thumb traced the shape of Will's bottom lip until there was a quiet knock at the door.

 

Hannibal took Alana's coat and led her directly to the dining room to take the seat opposite Will. Light danced in the reflection of her eyes as she studied Will across from her, taking her seat with purposeful calm. Before Hannibal could excuse himself to return to his creations in the kitchen, he was stopped by a light hand on his arm. He indulged Alana as she kissed him slowly on the lips. When the kiss ended Hannibal found Will's eyes elsewhere, his expression bored and again far-off.

 

"Dinner is almost ready," Hannibal said pleasantly and left the dining room to its now-heavy silence.

 

He rolled out the food with pride, serving Alana first, Will second, and filling his own plate last. The three of them exchanged words of love, food and death with punctuated calculation. Each word was carefully chosen for the table's audience. Alana managed to hook Hannibal's attention when she strayed far too quickly into dangerous territory. "Freddie Lounds thinks the two of you are a paradox. She sees something no one else sees."

 

"What's that?" Will looked away and then down.

 

Hannibal didn't miss the way Alana studied Will's reaction even as he took his own seat at the head of the table. "That neither of you is the killer she's writing about, but together you might be."

 

"Freddie Lounds must consider you a bland interview subject if she is already resorting to fiction," Hannibal sent Will a look, a twinge of amusement creasing the corners of his eyes and lips. Will looked less amused. Their eyes held longer than was appropriate; communication shared on a non-verbal spectrum they had already begun to perfect. Neither of them prompted further discussion of the topic, not foolish enough to flirt so openly with danger.

 

Alana seemed unwilling to drop the subject. "She won't be fenced in by something as malleable as the truth. Freddie has no boundaries."

 

"Someone with no boundaries is a psychopath," Will stated evenly. "Or a journalist."

 

Another tense pause of silence overtook the room as Alana and Will eyed one another, sized the other up. Hannibal wondered if either of them even tasted the food they were chewing. "Freddie isn't the only one without boundaries." Hannibal glanced from his food to Alana, already guessing what she would pin next. "Your relationship doesn't seem to know many. Patient and therapist. Friend and enemy."

 

"Crossing boundaries is different from violating them," Hannibal said, holding Alana's gaze strongly even though Will was the one he wanted to truly mull over the words.

 

Alana smiled with a hint of smug amusement as though she had been the sole recipient of an inside joke. Hannibal would not enlighten her to all the subtext hidden from her sight in the shadows. "Boundaries will always be subject to negotiation," she said. Alana continued to stare at Will, who swallowed and dropped his eyes again. "It's just hard to know where you are with each other."

 

Will, reacting in the same way as when he was left under a therapist's probing attention for too long, grew defensive and shut Alana out completely. "We know where we are with each other. Shouldn't that be enough?" There was only one word to describe Will's smile: mocking. Will knew the inside joke.

 

Alana turned to Hannibal, seeking backup, but Hannibal was unwilling to give it. "Better the devil you know," Hannibal mused aloud, thinking of more than just Will as he swirled his wine and breathed in its richness.

 

Much of the remainder of dinner was eaten in silence. Alana was the most likely to begin another topic, which Hannibal would indulge if on a safe subject. Will seemed unwilling to open himself to Alana again, even long enough to humour her attempts at conversation when the silence became strangling.

 

Hannibal could taste Will's discomfort; knew there was a lot more between his two lovers than himself. Will had trusted and relied on Alana as much as he was capable of doing so. Alana had first rejected Will's romantic advances and then subsequently rejected Will's insistence of sanity. She gave up on Will and turned her back. Will would not be capable of forgiving her for that. Hannibal's affair with her was a distant afterthought.

 

When Hannibal had finished his meal and the others had grown weary of sharing the same air, Hannibal announced the dinner concluded. "Thank you for attending tonight, Will," Hannibal said. "We shall have to do this again soon."

 

"Not too soon, I hope," Will grumbled, pushing his chair back and standing. "I'm going home."

 

"Would it kill you to say 'thank you'?" Alana demanded, standing as well. Her eyes were narrowed.

 

"No," Will said simply and walked around the table, heading for the main hallway.

 

Hannibal rose smoothly from his seat. He placed a soothing hand on Alana's arm and provided a well-practiced smile. "I will only be a moment," he assured her. "Perhaps you could begin clearing the plates?" Alana appeared ready to argue and shrugged off Hannibal's hand but nodded. "Let me assist you with your coat," Hannibal spoke louder as he exited into the hallway in Will's wake.

 

"I know how to put on a coat," Will already had one arm slotted into a sleeve as he looked over his shoulder.

 

"I would be concerned if you didn't," Hannibal smiled. One hand purposefully pressed against the small of Will's back while Hannibal held the other sleeve of Will's coat aloft. The surprised intake of breath Will tried to stifle piqued Hannibal's curiosity. Will had had his guard down, and Hannibal had discovered a sensitive spot he would have to explore in future.

 

Hannibal begrudged having to remove his hand as soon as Will's coat was in place on his shoulders but knew he had calculated correctly when Alana leaned against the kitchen's doorframe. Overseeing them, assuming she was protecting Hannibal by keeping a close eye on Will. Unknowing of the bite marks marring Will's skin beneath the weight of his winter coat. As if she could ever come between them.

 

Will inclined his head slightly, the only 'thank you' Hannibal needed, and then left without a backwards glance. Hannibal locked the door and turned to Alana with a smile. She remained tense; it would take her some time after Will's departure to fully relax. "I don't understand why you invited him over. He tried to kill you once, Hannibal," Alana's eyes shone with concern. "He could do it again."

 

Hannibal thought of the night he had been in his darkened kitchen and Will had pointed a gun to his head. Righteous vengeance had been in his eyes that night, and there had been no one to stop Will from pulling the trigger. Will could have ended Hannibal's existence that night – since that moment Hannibal struggled to think of an ending he'd prefer more – but he hadn't. "I enjoy Will's company."

 

This was not a satisfying answer to Alana. "He could have at least offered to help clean up."

 

"He helped me prepare the meal and set the table," Hannibal reasoned. He was not keeping score.

 

Alana gave in at that point, and they sipped wine and chatted of simpler topics while Hannibal set away the food and wiped the kitchen down. They shared another glass of wine by the fire in Hannibal's study and Alana's body pressed closer, soft and almost too warm when combined with the fire's heat. When the room grew quiet and their glasses emptied, Hannibal offered a hand and led Alana upstairs.

 

He peeled away clothes like skin and allowed his own to slide away with an ease that came from a non-existent sense of self-consciousness. When Hannibal pressed into her welcoming body he kept his eyes open, unwilling to tarnish Will by imagining him as a substitute. Hannibal's movements were practiced but mechanical, his heartbeat even, his lips numb even as Alana cried out against them. The passion she displayed so openly had been foreign to Hannibal until recently, but he could not credit Alana for the awakening.

 

#

 

Hannibal sat calmly in the chair by Freddie Lounds' bed, comfortable in the plastic suit he had become accustomed to. His eyes alternated occasionally between the bedroom door and the sliver of sky he could make out through the small window in the room. Regardless of the direction of his gaze, his ears were strained for muffled footfalls, his body ready for action the moment it was time.

 

The vibrations of his phone ringing in his pocket caught his attention but Hannibal ignored it. Nothing could be more important than this; removing a threat to the partnership only beginning to bud between himself and Will. The phone went still, but before Hannibal even had time to draw in another breath it buzzed anew. Insistent and demanding. _Perhaps it was Will_. Hannibal was careful to open the zipper on the plastic just enough to pull out his phone.

 

Two new voicemails, but it was not Will's phone number. On the third call from Jack, Hannibal relented, though he kept his head turned with one ear directed towards the door. "Am I interrupting?" Jack asked.

 

"Just waiting for a meeting," Hannibal offered.

 

Jack barely waited until Hannibal was finished speaking. "Can you reschedule? I need you in my office as soon as possible."

 

It wasn't like this was Hannibal's last opportunity at Freddie Lounds, but the longer she was allowed to live and plant suspicion in the minds of whoever would listen, the more dangerous it would be for her to disappear. "A lot rests on this meeting."

 

"This is about Will."

 

How inconvenient it was to have a weakness. "I'll be there presently."

 

#

 

The terrified, desperate final screams of Freddie Lounds filled Hannibal with a sense of pride and elation. It was even better than if Hannibal himself had stolen her last breath, because his creation had taken action without hesitation. Hannibal wondered why Will had not called him to inform him of this development, but now was not the moment to begin that conversation. Not with Jack sitting in his desk and Alana hovering behind Will's chair, staring hard.

 

Will was in full control of his emotions even as Jack laid out all the facts of Freddie Lounds' disappearance that put Will in a precarious position. Will only showed what the others needed to see. His face was unreadable, no matter how hard Jack and Alana tried to tease out some hint. "Freddie was supposed to interview me," Will explained. A master of half-truths. "She never showed up."

 

"Why are you granting interviews to Freddie Lounds?" Jack probed.

 

"I owed her one." Never offering more information than was strictly required.

 

"Surely Freddie Lounds has more enemies than Will," Hannibal added, diverting some of the attention away. He knew Will could hold his own, but there was an excitement that came from a team effort shared in secret camaraderie. Hannibal and Will against the world.

 

"Not in Wolf Trap, Virginia."

 

Hannibal was silent at the rebuff. It was easier to hide anger in silence than shaken words. But Hannibal's mind was not silent. Jack may have become a friend, but he could be sacrificed.

 

"I live in the middle of nowhere, Jack," Will spoke up again. "If someone wanted to take her, it's not a bad place to do it."

 

Jack and Alana shared a look, speculation hanging in the air. But Hannibal knew they had nothing to work with. And even though Alana would still require some persuasion to brush aside her suspicions of Will, Jack appeared unwilling to lose faith in his secret weapon the way he had when Hannibal had originally framed him. They were excused a short time later when Jack was finished with his questions. Will surprised Hannibal by asking to come over for dinner the following night – and to provide the ingredients for the meal – and Hannibal was delighted to accept.


	3. Chapter 3

It had barely been more than twenty-four hours since Hannibal had seen Will last. That did not change the way it felt like puzzle pieces slotting into place when Hannibal opened his door and invited Will into his home. As soon as his boots were removed, Hannibal brought Will to the kitchen. "I provide the ingredients," Will said as he placed the wrapped meat on the counter first, followed by tomatoes and other ingredients he had brought along. "You tell me what to do with them."

 

"What's the meat?" Hannibal asked.

 

Will slid the package closer; an offering. "What do you think?"

 

Hannibal pulled back the paper and exposed raw flesh. "Veal?" He leaned closer to breathe in the scent. "Pork, perhaps," he suggested, though he hoped otherwise. Would it be foolish of him to assume Will might emulate him quite this closely? Though Will was familiar with hunting and eating his catches, human flesh was a different boundary to cross.

 

Will turned playful; a curious development. "She was a slim and delicate pig."

 

"I'll make you lomo saltado," Hannibal said. Will had earned a fine reward. "We will make it together." The idea warmed him, as did the realization that Will seemed to enjoy wordplay almost as much as Hannibal himself did. "You slice the ginger."

 

He pressed the handle of the kitchen knife into Will's hand and they froze there in a tableau. The scars from Matthew Brown's attack on Will's orders were open and visible on Hannibal's outstretched forearm; still slightly pink and raw in certain lighting. The tip of the knife now in Will's grasp lined up perfectly with the angry marks. One shift in mindset and those wounds could be reopened, Hannibal's blood staining the floor.

 

Perhaps Will considered it, but not for as long as he studied his own reflection in the gleaming blade. Eventually Hannibal touched Will's hand and drew him back to the present task of slicing the meat he had brought to Hannibal's kitchen. They spoke of little while they worked, except when Hannibal provided further instructions in the preparation of their meal. The companionship was enough.

 

He had Will choose his seat again and served him in front of the fire. Hannibal sat down with his own plate across from Will, abandoning the head of the table. He watched closely as Will cut the meat and parted his lips, accepting it into his body. Will chewed slowly, savouring everything about this moment. Hannibal watched closely for discomfort or disgust but there was none to find.

 

Will looked up and Hannibal took his own first bite, allowing Will to study his reaction. "The meat has an interesting flavour. It's brazing; notes of citrus."

 

"My palate isn't as refined as yours," Will said.

 

"Apart from humane considerations, it's more flavourful for animals to be stress-free prior to slaughter." Hannibal took another slow bite. "This animal tastes frightened." The meat had been tarnished and Hannibal could not deny being disappointed. But in the same stroke he was pleased to know that there was still much he could teach Will; that Will would have no reason to shut Hannibal out anytime soon.

 

"What does 'frightened' taste like?" Will asked with a professional curiosity, taking another bite without hesitance.

 

"It's acidic."

 

Will would not have his victory taken from him, or his celebration dampened. "The meat is bitter about being dead." A genuine smile; that thought pleased Will, which pleased Hannibal in turn.

 

Hannibal's entire expression echoed that smile. "This meat is not pork."

 

"It's long pig." There it was; the confession. Hannibal's desires shifted to living flesh but he would not waste Will's kill by leaving it to cool. They took another bite in unison, fully aware of what they were sharing. Will went to take another sip of wine but paused. "You can't reduce me to a set of influences. I'm not the product of anything. I've given up good and evil for behaviourism." Will refused to be labelled as nothing more than a pale echo of Hannibal's image.

 

"Then you can't say that I'm evil."

 

"You're destructive. Same thing." There was almost a question at the end of Will's statement. Uncertainties that still needed to be wiped away.

 

"Evil is just destructive? Storms are evil, if it's that simple. And we have fire, and then there's hail. Underwriters lump it all under 'acts of God'," he paused to study their plates. "Is this meat an act of God, Will?"

 

There was a hint of a prideful smile that curled Will's lips and then disappeared just as quickly. There was still turmoil within Will. Deep down Hannibal believed that Will knew the power he possessed, the sway he held over the lives of others. But he wasn't yet ready to fully acknowledge and accept that. "Do you believe it is?"

 

He didn't hesitate. "Yes."

 

When their plates were nearly cleared, Hannibal asked his next question. "Why did you choose to not call me?"

 

"She was mine," Will proclaimed. Echoes of every horrible word Freddie Lounds had published about Will reflected in his eyes.

 

Hannibal conceded. "Yes, she was. Have you decided what to do with her body?"

 

"Preserved, for now," Will said. "Awaiting inspiration."

 

Will did not want suggestions or else he would have asked for them, and Hannibal was too curious to see what would trigger Will and offer the inspiration he deemed worthy. After the plates were washed and the kitchen clean, Hannibal lifted a bottle of wine. "Will you share a glass with me?"

 

Will agreed and Hannibal led him into the study. When Will moved towards one of the seats, Hannibal grasped his hand. Will looked up, confused for a moment, and then followed to sit in Hannibal's lap once Hannibal was seated in his chosen armchair. There was more than enough room for Will to lock his legs between Hannibal's hips and the chair's arms, though he sat with ongoing tenseness.

 

"Interesting seating arrangement," Will took a sip from the glass of red wine he had carried in before setting it on the small table beside the armchair.

 

Hannibal placed a lazy hand against the small of Will's back, cradling his body. His hand lingered the way he wished it had the other night before Alana had interrupted. "Within easy reaching distance." Hannibal took a sip of wine next from the imprint of Will's lips.

 

"To what end?"

 

He set the wine glass down and then used his free hand to slowly undo the front buttons of Will's shirt. His movements were languid as he exposed inch upon inch of Will's chest. They had no reason to rush. When the shirt fluttered open loosely, Hannibal moved his hand on Will's back to hold bare skin. His other hand traced designs from Will's navel, around both nipples until they peaked, and then along his collarbone. Will allowed the exploration while he swallowed another mouthful of wine.

 

"You are an exquisite creature, Will," Hannibal praised. Will watched his intrigue. "Do my marks remain?"

 

As Hannibal pushed at the collar, Will shrugged fully out of his shirt. It fell to the floor and was immediately forgotten. The lighter marks left across Will's stomach and chest were gone, but the ones between his neck and shoulders remained thanks to the darkening from their previous dinner. Hannibal darkened them anew, wishing that the blood would never fade and forever leave a stain beneath Will's skin.

 

Next he bit into the soft flesh of Will's inner arm, which tarnished much more readily as Hannibal sucked Will's skin between his teeth. Just once Will whimpered, an instant before Hannibal tasted the iron of Will's blood. Will did not push him away even when Hannibal sucked harder, thirst unquenchable as he drank Will's life. He would never have enough but he eventually removed his mouth and licked the last of Will's blood from his lips.

 

Hannibal dislodged Will and moved him into the chair, disappearing only long enough to grab a first-aid kit. He would not allow an infection to steal Will away from him. Will had his arm stretched out when Hannibal returned to the study, looking over the bite mark still bleeding sluggishly. They returned to their original positions, Will sitting more comfortably now in Hannibal's lap.

 

Will remained silent as Hannibal cleaned the bite mark thoroughly and then bandaged it. Twice he sipped more wine, the glass more than half-drained. Hannibal set the first-aid kit aside when he was done and returned his hands to Will's warm skin, exploring without aim. He tilted his head back when Will fingered at his tie, unravelling it slowly. Perhaps Will expected to be stopped, though Hannibal said nothing.

 

The tie, once removed, was draped over the back of the chair. "When will Alana be over next?" Will wondered as his fingers made quick work of the buttons on Hannibal's shirt.

 

"The date is far enough away," Hannibal encouraged.

 

Both of Will's hands pressed against his chest and then slid upward, fingers clutching at Hannibal's shoulders. Their eyes held for a long moment before Will's head bowed, his lips finding the pulse in Hannibal's neck. Will nipped Hannibal's pulse with blunt teeth and Hannibal felt his body tense, alight by something akin to an electric shock. His hands held Will's waist while Will continued to mouth and suck down the column of Hannibal's neck and across his collarbone.

 

Each mark would last long enough for Hannibal to admire that night when he prepared for bed, and lament in the morning as they fled. Their erections tented their pants but neither reached down to grind in the heel of a palm. Will sat back at one point, eyeing his design. Once satisfied, Will leaned forward and gently rested his forehead against Hannibal's own. Hannibal continued to support Will's body to hold him in place, thumbs caressing circles into skin. Will's eyes were already closed and Hannibal let his own drift shut, both of them breathing in unison.

 

Hannibal was at peace.

 

He didn't know how long they sat there. It didn't matter. The fire crackled comfortingly, the glass of wine forgotten. They remained in a moment entirely their own until Will's body began to sag. Hannibal moved Will until he lay against Hannibal, his head resting on Hannibal's shoulder. Will's breath tickled his skin on each tired exhale. "I didn't plan to stay the night."

 

"You are welcome to stay," Hannibal offered. He blamed the heat of the fire and Will's body for the lull in his wakefulness.

 

"The dogs..." Will searched for a reason to argue.

 

"Did you not feed them before coming here?"

 

"I did."

 

"Then they will be fine until morning," Hannibal reasoned. He did not want to relinquish their closeness. "I have a guest room if that is preferable."

 

The press of lips against Hannibal's jaw was different, something more. A kiss. Hannibal's heart missed a beat. Will said nothing further and after a few more minutes of silence, Hannibal realized that Will had fallen asleep. Hannibal finished the last of the wine, smearing the print of Will's lips on the glass with his own lips. He allowed his consciousness to drift until the fire began to smoulder.

 

Not wanting to presume, Hannibal carried Will upstairs and laid him down on the guest bed. He pulled the blankets up and watched Will for a moment, wishing him safety from nightmares for a rare night, and then left the room. Hannibal extinguished the fire, cleaned up, and then moved to his own room. His thoughts remained quiet as he looked over the marks Will had bestowed upon his skin in the bathroom mirror. That night he dreamt of watching Will's rebirth and, when the winter's chill grew to be too much, held Will's blood-soaked body against his own.

 

#

 

The rustle of the sheets and a hand on his bare stomach jolted Hannibal out of sleep. His instinct had his hand around the intruder's throat, squeezing the life out of them as Hannibal rolled them both over to pin the threat down, making them unable to fight back. Except no one fought back. The body below him was pliant. Hannibal blinked and he took in Will below him, face going red with lack of oxygen. His eyes were on Hannibal, daring him to make the wrong choice, trusting him to make the right one.

 

"My apologies," Hannibal said as he removed his hand.

 

"I'd do the same," Will said, not upset by Hannibal's reaction.

 

It was still hard for Hannibal to realize that he had found someone else in the world who could truly understand. In both thanks and apology, Hannibal kissed the red handprint circling Will's throat. Though Will had been awake when Hannibal was pinning him, his eyes drooped again. Hannibal glanced over at the clock; it was still the middle of the night. "Did you have a plan when entering my bed?"

 

Will shrugged as he yawned. "I considered sucking you off but now I just want to go back to sleep."

 

Hannibal noticed Will's undershirt was soaked with sweat. "Did you have a nightmare?" Will shrugged again, noncommittal. The idea of having Will's mouth on his cock was appealing regardless of the part of him still weighing Will's threat levels and the possibility of being deceived. But Hannibal was tired too, and he still felt relaxed from their earlier closeness in the armchair. "You will sleep here."

 

"I'll probably wake you up with another nightmare," Will said, though he wasn't making a move to get out of bed.

 

"Irrelevant," Hannibal lay down beside Will, pulling the blankets up around them both. Will grumbled nonsensically, but when Hannibal placed a hand on his hip, Will shuffled back to slot himself against Hannibal's chest. They were both asleep again before Hannibal remembered if there was anything else he had meant to say.

 

#

 

In the morning Hannibal woke up first. He lay in bed for a while, listening to the even in-and-out of Will's breathing through sleep. Then he got up to shower and put on a pot of coffee. Breakfast was nearly ready by the time Will joined him in the kitchen, clothes and hair rumpled. Will stayed long enough to swallow some bacon and eggs but did not delay in his exit. Hannibal let him go after receiving an acceptance for another dinner-for-two the following Saturday.

 

They saw little of each other throughout the week, busy with their individual work. They shared their weekly conversation in Hannibal's office but that was different from the dynamic that was slowly being adopted in the privacy of their homes. During their time apart Hannibal thought of what meal he wanted to serve Will during his upcoming visit. He always strived to outdo himself, but in particular when it was for Will. Hannibal couldn't deny his enjoyment at showing off his plumage for his chosen one.

 

It was the thought of plumage that led to the answer. Will wasn't due to arrive until the evening but Hannibal dedicated the day to preparations. Dinner was splendid, as always, but it was the dessert that had Hannibal most proud. Two ortolan buntings, drowned alive in Armagnac, plucked and roasted. They were still alight with fire when Hannibal brought out the dish and set it between them in the middle of the table. But it was the sight of Will swallowing the bird whole, and the sound of bones splintering between Will's teeth, that had Hannibal's heart thrumming.

 

When they had both swallowed their delicacies, Hannibal spoke. "After my first ortolan, I was euphoric. A stimulating reminder of our power over life and death."

 

"I was euphoric when I killed Freddie Lounds."

 

Hannibal watched Will, considered his sudden blunt honesty. "Tell me, did your heart race when you murdered her?"

 

Will shook his head and looked to Hannibal for guidance, for an explanation. "No, it didn't."

 

"Just like with Randall Tier. A low heart rate is a true indicator of one's capacity for violence. Your design is evolving," he noted with satisfaction. "Your choices affect the physical structures of your brain."

 

"Killing is changing the way I think," Will surmised as he took a bite from the rest of the dessert Hannibal had brought out to compliment the ortolan.

 

"Yes," Hannibal almost whispered it, caught up in the reverence of watching his creation evolve into so much more than he had ever hoped for. "You must understand that blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your radiance. Just as the source of light is burning." As though Will truly was a beautiful, all-consuming flame, Hannibal was unable to remove his gaze. "I want to have you on my table tonight, Will."

 

The pause mid-chew was the only hint that Will had been caught off guard. "Considering we just finished our meal, I'm assuming you intend for me to be alive when you consume me."

 

The word choice had heat coursing through Hannibal's body. "Yes."

 

Will swallowed his mouthful and nodded. "Alright. But I'm not staying overnight. There's something I have to do."

 

"Very well," Hannibal agreed. They finished the last few bites of their dessert and then Hannibal gathered up the plates. "You may use the shower attached to the guest room. When you are done, there is a robe on the back of the door you can put on before returning."

 

Will didn't ask about assisting with the cleaning. Hannibal listened to his footfalls on the stairs and heard the distant cascade of the shower turn on before he carried the plates to the kitchen and cleaned up. After that he removed the centrepiece from the middle of the table and wiped the wood down. It would need to be cleaned again afterward but Hannibal would not begrudge that task.

 

A cleared throat caught his attention and Hannibal turned. The burgundy robe looked stunning on Will's body, highlighting the flush across Will's skin from the heat of the shower's spray and perhaps some blend of nervousness and arousal. Hannibal moved closer and, after taking Will's clothes from under his arm and setting them aside, hooked one finger in the V where the robe was drawn together. He slid his finger down, parting the robe for his viewing pleasure.

 

Will had very little chest hair but his chest and arms were muscular, his skin smooth apart from a few old scars. As Hannibal's finger continued to delve further down, it came to brush against the trail of hair leading from Will's navel down to his cock. Beckoning. Hannibal moved both hands up and pushed at the robe, sending it to the floor in a pool at Will's feet. Every inch of Will's body called to him, begged to be touched and tasted and marked.

 

"On the table, please. On your back." His voice was a little rougher than he intended. Will noticed, but said nothing.

 

Hannibal had his tie and suit jacket off by the time Will was on the table, and his shirt unbuttoned by the time Will found a comfortable position on his back and looked over. Will's eyes were half-lidded but undeniably focused on Hannibal's body as it was exposed for him. Hannibal found himself moving more slowly under Will's gaze, making a show of undoing his belt and pushing his pants and underwear over his hips.

 

Naked and with his clothes folded and set aside, Hannibal grabbed the jar of lube and the condom he had already fetched in preparation. He set it on the table near Will's shoulder and then circled, memorizing every inch bared to him. Will watched Hannibal stalking him like prey for a few minutes and then turned his face to the ceiling, his eyes closed. Will's cock was still flaccid but a shiver rocked his body when Hannibal first brushed a finger along Will's ankle. The fire chased any chill from the room; Will's shiver betrayed his anticipation.

 

When his own self-restraint wavered, Hannibal moved onto the table and knelt above Will. After a full week his marks were almost completely gone, except for the bite mark on Will's inner arm. It was healing well though and Hannibal would not reopen the wound, unwilling to pause long enough to clean it to avoid infection again. Instead he pressed his mouth to new areas of Will's body that had previously been out of reach, leaving a trail of bites wherever he lingered.

 

One at the base of Will's neck just to feel his pulse jump. A rough suck to each of Will's nipples that had Will crying out in surprise and pleasure. Another mark on Will's hip where his belt would press against tender skin. Will was half-hard by the time Hannibal moved down to breathe moist air across his length. Hannibal bypassed Will's cock though and instead sucked a dark, claiming mark on Will's inner thigh.

 

Once he had had his fill of marking Will's skin, Hannibal reached for the lube and coated two fingers. When Hannibal's fingers pressed in, Will winced and grunted. His legs locked together to block Hannibal's entrance, forcing him away. "Back off, that hurt," Will accused, his teeth clenched. "In fact, get off the table entirely."

 

"Will." Hannibal kept his hands to himself but he did not hide his displeasure at the order.

 

"Hannibal."

 

So rarely did Will use his first name that Hannibal relented and slowly got off the table. He realized that this was a test. Will would share a throne but would not bend his head and be ruled. Words echoed in his mind in a voice not his own: _Beloved. Equal._

 

Will slicked his own fingers and pressed them in slowly. He was too stubborn to admit to the awkward angle. Hannibal wiped the lube from his fingers onto his thigh and watched greedily for a few moments from his position at the end of the table. He watched Will's fingers stretch his hole, on display between his spread legs.

 

Then Hannibal began to circle the table, his palm held a mere inch over Will's flushed skin. Will was radiating heat. "You burn."

 

"Yes," Will croaked. His fingers continued to move in and out of his body, though the movement was jerky and unfocused.

 

At the opposite end of the table, Hannibal's hand hovered over Will's face. Will lifted his head enough to push his sweaty forehead against Hannibal's palm, seeking contact. Mimicking a puppy starved for attention. Hannibal would not deny Will of it even though Will had pushed him away mere minutes ago. He brushed Will's soft curls from where they stuck to his forehead. "What manner of creature will emerge from your ashes?"

 

"A monster," Will lamented.

 

"No," Hannibal leaned over Will so that their eyes met. "Nothing so mediocre."

 

Will's fingers had stopped. His full attention was on Hannibal's face and words. "What then?"

 

"You will be whatever you choose to be," Hannibal said. "And the world will bow."

 

He grunted in surprise when Will reached up with his unoccupied hand and grabbed the back of Hannibal's neck. In the next moment he was dragged down until their mouths smashed together. It was a plea for the validation and acceptance no one else was willing to give Will, but that Hannibal was more than happy to offer. Hannibal had never fully understood the symbolic value people placed on the touching of lips in particular, but it was clear Will subscribed to that belief society instilled in him the same way Alana did. But unlike with Alana, whom he kissed as another practiced action of their dance, his brush of lips against Will's felt important.

 

When he pulled back he was slightly surprised to find them both out of breath. "You can get back on the table now," Will said.

 

Hannibal chuckled, happy for the distraction from his tingling lips. "How generous."

 

He had given Will his moment to make orders, but now Hannibal would take the reins. He moved back onto the table and knocked Will's knees apart as he grabbed more lube to slick onto three fingers. Will removed his two and spread his arms and legs out across the table's surface. So inviting and welcoming.

 

Three fingers had Will wincing again, but this time Will didn't push Hannibal away. Will alternated between holding his breath and gasping, body tense until Hannibal kissed each of Will's trembling knees in turn. After that his hole relaxed and Hannibal got his fingers in to the second knuckle, spreading lube and preparing Will's body to accept him.

 

They were both hard when Hannibal slid the condom onto his length; an ingrained lesson to not leave any trace of evidence on or inside a body. Will stroked his own erection a few times with a jerky fist, darkened eyes on the head of Hannibal's cock being lined up with his hole. "Enough of that," Hannibal said as he knocked Will's hand away. "I will give you what you need."

 

Will nodded and bit his lip. It didn't matter that Will was trying to keep himself silent as Hannibal slid his cock in slowly. Will either panted or whined in the back of his throat until Hannibal was fully seated, their bodies locked together. Will was so tight that Hannibal wondered if Will had ever had a male lover before. He didn't ask because it didn't matter; Will was his now.

 

The flush on Will's cheeks was one of the most beautiful things Hannibal had ever seen, reminding him of the precious life that ran through Will's veins. He knew how dangerous this was, exposing himself and divulging his inner-most thoughts and desires. He knew this had to be why Will was playing along, to finally break through Hannibal's defences and learn him inside and out. The motivations behind their more intimate moments – the quiet companionship in Hannibal's armchair, their tangled limbs in Hannibal's bed, and the brush of their lips – were still somewhat of a mystery, but one Hannibal hoped to unravel with time.

 

Their bodies rocked as one. Will's heels dug into the table, knees bent to angle his hips up and meet each thrust. Hannibal bruised Will's hips with his hands as he thrust into the heat of Will's body. There were no words whispered between them, but in a way the harshness of their breathing revealed more than words ever could.

 

They were both slick with sweat when Hannibal reached down and began to stroke Will's cock in time with his thrusts. Will's nails scraped along Hannibal's biceps and shoulder blades, seeking an anchor wherever he managed to latch on. Hannibal would need to delay his next visit with Alana, but the thought did not trouble him.

 

Remembering his first encounter with Will, Hannibal dipped his nail into the slit of Will's cock. As planned, it sent Will over the edge with a strangled groan. His back bowed violently and Hannibal supported its arch, thrusting into Will's body with more need. Hannibal's orgasm crashed over his head and bled out of him as Will shuddered against him, and he imagined spilling his seed inside Will's body instead of the condom until he was spent.

 

He didn't curl up with Will on the table. First, it wasn't terribly comfortable lying on the hard wooden surface. Second, and more important, Hannibal decided that enough boundaries had been crossed for one night. Hannibal had never felt like he was giving too much of himself away when he was with Alana; it was always easy to maintain control of his chosen mask. Tonight it had come too close and Hannibal admitted to feeling unsettled. Will hadn't given in to him yet. There was still a game to be played.

 

That didn't stop him from getting a damp cloth after washing his hands. He wiped the sweat and lube from Will's body, eyes on Will's glazed expression. There was still a chance that they were both deceiving one another, tangled up in too many masks and lies, but not in this moment. Will's expression was blank but not in a purposeful way. Hannibal liked to think that Will was blissed out and for a brief moment forgot any reason to hide away parts of himself from Hannibal.

 

Once Will regained his senses he hesitantly got off the table. His movements were stiff as he pulled on his clothes slowly. Hannibal had already redressed and assessed the red marks across Will's shoulders, shoulder blades and ass from their movements. Will would likely be sore for a few days, and wouldn't quickly forget their coupling.

 

Hannibal didn't offer a bed – the guest bed or his own – since Will had already stated his intentions to not stay the night. He allowed one hand to touch Will's back under the ruse of assisting Will's balance while he pulled on his boots and coat. Hannibal did not plan to say anything further that night; it seemed that too much might have already been exchanged. But he did not remain mute when Will gave him a hard look and asked, "Did you mean it, what you said?"

 

Mentally he considered each word he had spoken that night, and every underlying implication. "Yes," he said after a moment.

 

Will didn't seem to know what he wanted to say next. Instead he wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck and pulled open the door. "Goodnight."

 

"Goodnight, Will," Hannibal bid his farewell. He remained in his doorframe, untouched by the cold air, to watch until Will got into his car and drove out of sight.


	4. Chapter 4

When Hannibal looked over the burned body confirmed to have Freddie Lounds' teeth, he was listening. When Zeller turned over the body and showed off the incisions displaying the flesh taken as trophies – with a hunting knife – Hannibal was intrigued. And when Will spoke of his design – so obvious to anyone who would truly listen to the passion in each word – and the mythical nature of fire as both creator and destroyer, Hannibal was captivated.

 

"Freddie Lounds will not rise from the ashes," Will's eyes sought Hannibal. "But her killer will."

 

Hannibal inclined his head before turning to Jack. "He's the one to be noticed now."

 

This was Will's kill, Will's design. But Hannibal was so proud that he allowed his urge to act, to echo, to honour, fill him up. After all, he had been the one to initiate this bond with Will. He had taken every step possible to seep into Will's mind, understand his deepest desires and fears that drove him. Hannibal had searched for that part of Will that had been mocked and shunned until it cowered in the locked-away corners of Will's consciousness. Hannibal had coaxed and encouraged Will and taken his hand to lead him through the first fumbling steps of darkness when it was most tempting to turn back.

 

He could not promise Will the light, but Hannibal could promise Will a strong and understanding partner in the darkness so that he would never again walk alone. Will had done so well, first with Randall Tier and now Freddie Lounds. It was time for Hannibal to return the gift, to proclaim his dedication and prove his commitment to this courtship. He would not disappoint, and he would not fail. Shiva was the perfect choice – both destroyer and creator overlooking Will's metamorphosis, as Hannibal was. He knew Will would understand what Hannibal meant to say.

 

Before he had the chance to enact his plan, before Freddie Lounds had even been buried beneath dirt, Hannibal had a knock at his office door. He was surprised when he saw Will standing a few steps behind Margot, but didn't show it on his face. Margot took the seat opposite Hannibal's while Will stood closer to the window, more than physical space between them as silence reigned.

 

"I'm pregnant with Will's child." Hannibal's ears rang, struggling to find a coherent frequency. "There's no baby. It isn't even an embryo yet, but here I am, feeling maternal."

 

Hannibal could not mimic any practiced mask for a performance; his face was blank. That was better than displaying the ugliness coiling inside him. "You conspired with your unborn child to liberate yourself," he assumed immediately. That part of this development was not a surprise. "You've made Will an unknowing accomplice." This, complicated things.

 

"I got what I wanted from Will but I didn't understand what I was taking until the strip turned blue," she said as she turned to Will, who was staring at the far wall. Distancing himself from this. "I'm not proud of myself."

 

"Nor should you be." Anger contained – barely. Used. _Again_. "You said—"

 

"I lied," Margot turned back to Hannibal.

 

Hannibal sought Will and, although Will refused him for a breath of a moment, Will looked back. "Did you know?"

 

"I was aware of Margot's goal of having a child. I was not aware you were the means to achieving it." Will was hurt, but Hannibal too had been let down.

 

"What do you want from me?" Will asked Margot tightly. Familiar with the role of handy tool to be called upon when needed and set aside when the task was accomplished.

 

"Nothing," Margot promised, and then carefully opened herself up. "Or as much as you'd like to give. I'm not opposed to a male influence, as long as it's not my brother." Hannibal consciously stopped himself from clenching his jaw. The offer Margot was presenting Will was a dangerous threat to everything Hannibal had been attempting to build. Action would need to be taken to deal with this unborn being that could, if Hannibal wasn't careful, steal Will's affection. Hannibal's thoughts about Will sleeping with Margot – _when? why?_ – could be addressed later. "For now I would like to finish my session with Doctor Lecter."

 

Will left without another word, body listless. Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment. However much of a snare Margot's unborn heir was across Hannibal's carefully cleared path for Will, more than anything Hannibal regretted Will's regression. In his life, no one had accepted or pursued him unless he was _useful_ to them. While Hannibal had been drawing Will from that mindset, nudging him towards a life to choose his own purpose and forge his own path, this would require repair.

 

Now more than ever it was important for Hannibal to complete his patronage of Will's pursuits. An offered hand that would not waver, despite any mistakes that might have been made. Still, he was forced to wait until Freddie Lounds was placed in the ground. Until then, Hannibal completed his appointments for the day, including both Vergers who were equal opportunity and hindrance. With the winter season came a premature sunset and with inspiration already burning a plan in his mind's eye, Hannibal completed his work under the cover of twilight before true darkness even fell in the graveyard.

 

He was unsure if Will would come, but Hannibal returned to his office after washing up and at 7:30pm sharp there was a knock at the door. Hannibal let Will in and locked the door behind him, refusing any potential interruptions during this conversation. Will pulled one of the chairs in front of Hannibal's desk to the end of the desk, as close as he could be without sitting side by side. Hannibal took his desk chair and poured them each a glass of brandy, remaining silent. He wanted Will to speak first, and he did.

 

"I've been so preoccupied with taking a life I'm uh, having trouble wrapping my head around making one." Will's fingers caressed his glass, thoughts far-off. With Margot. With their unborn. Was that the gentleness with which Will would brush away the curls of his child? Hannibal acknowledged the balance between life and death required to maintain Will's sanity and happiness, but this was not what Hannibal had planned. Not with Abigail so carefully tucked away for the right moment.

 

Hannibal's trump card.

 

"When men become fathers, they undergo biochemical changes that affect the way they think," Hannibal said, recognizing the signs in Will.

 

"You said the same thing happens when men become killers."

 

"Fathers can be killers," Hannibal reasoned. His thoughts were heavy as he tried to imagine Will as a father. "What sort of father would you be?" he asked, his curiosity genuine.

 

"I would be a good father." Will's voice was uneven with emotion.

 

"How quickly we form attachments to something that does not yet exist." He couldn't stop the slight hint of scorn from entering his tone.

 

"I'm not attached," Will hurried to insist, choosing his words carefully. "I'm only anticipating attachment."

 

"We have a deep-seated need to interact with our children." Hannibal could not fault Will for his biology and nature. "It helps us discover who we are."

 

"Have you ever been a father?" Will wondered boldly.

 

Hannibal found himself willing to share more of himself, despite his brief unease after their encounter sprawled across his dining room table. "I was for my sister. She was not my child, but she was my charge. She taught me so much about myself. Her name was... Mischa." Speaking the name brought back fond and painful memories.

 

"Was?"

 

"She's dead." The room had grown hushed. "Abigail reminded me so much of her."

 

"Why did you kill her?" Will whispered.

 

Hannibal swallowed. This was as close to a confession as he had edged thus far. "What happened to Abigail had to happen. There was no other way."

 

"There was. But there isn't now." Anger dampened by loss. Anger at Hannibal for making that decision on his own; loss for what Will believed could never be again.

 

"Would you protect this child in the way you couldn't protect Abigail?" His question was weighed down with calculation. Would this unborn child replace Abigail in Will's heart? Would Hannibal lose the power of his trump card?

 

When he looked up, Hannibal's stomach clenched uncomfortably because tears were in Will's eyes. "I still dream about Abigail," Will confessed brokenly to the man who had broken him. "I dream that I'm teaching her how to fish."

 

Was this empathy; what Hannibal was experiencing? "I'm sorry I took that from you. Wish I could give it back." He would give it back. He had broken Will, but Hannibal would help put the pieces back together again.

 

"So do I." Anguished tears did not smell sweet.

 

"Occasionally, I drop a teacup to shatter on the floor. On purpose." Hannibal pursed his lips. "I am not satisfied when it doesn't gather itself up again. Someday perhaps, a cup will come together."

 

Hannibal would make it so.

 

Will's phone rang, jarring them both. Will brushed more wayward tears from his cheeks as he looked at the display screen and then answered the call. "Jack. I'm in a session, I—" Will was cut off. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Alright, give me time to drive over. I'm on my way." Will hung up and studied Hannibal closely for hints when he spoke again, "Something about Freddie Lounds' gravesite."

 

Hannibal did not spoil the surprise. "We can conclude our session here then."

 

"Actually..." Will hesitated, fiddling with his untouched brandy glass again. "If I came back afterwards..."

 

"I would still be here."

 

Will seemed relieved to hear it. "Alright. I'll be back then."

 

Will was Hannibal's final session for the evening. He could have gone home, made himself a small meal and relaxed in his study. Instead Hannibal occupied himself with drawing, trying to capture the shadows dancing across his sketchbook from the fireplace behind his desk. Hannibal's thoughts were busy, part of him with Will in spirit, imagining what Will might feel when he saw Hannibal's effigy. The rest of him was observing every carefully-woven thread of his web, considering the interconnectivity of those around him and the vibrations this news of Will and Margot's unborn would stir.

 

Will knocked but didn't wait for Hannibal to open the door before re-entering the room more than an hour later. Hannibal heard the quiet click of the door being locked again and he looked up from his drawing. Will wavered where he stood in front of Hannibal's desk, unknowing of his place and where he belonged. "The tribute," Will began, hesitating to lick his dry lips. "Did you do that before or after you found out about me and Margot?"

 

"After," Hannibal promised quietly.

 

Will's shoulders sagged with relief at the reassurance. "Thank you."

 

To be acknowledged and thanked for his work was a new experience, one that Hannibal did not find himself opposed to. "You're welcome." He set his drawing aside as Will took his seat again. The brandy had remained untouched until now, when Will took a hasty sip. Hannibal copied him, feeling the burn in the back of his throat, and then asked, "When?"

 

"Shortly after Randall Tier." Will's eyes were downcast.

 

"We had scarcely been together and you opened your bed to her," Hannibal said. "Why?"

 

"I was trying to make sense of what I was feeling," Will explained. "I figured maybe that first night was because I hadn't had sex in... a while."

 

Hannibal's finger followed the rim of his glass in a slow circle. "And what results did your experiment yield?"

 

"Other than a child?" Will snorted and ran his fingers carelessly through his hair. Hannibal's expression remained stony and Will sobered. It didn't matter how uncomfortable he was with the topic of discussion; Will held Hannibal's searching gaze. "I realized it wasn't just the physical release I was drawn to but our... connection." A twitch of a shy smile. "That has only become clearer since then."

 

Hannibal was not yet willing to let this slide, ignoring the warmth of that near-smile. "Was this also payback regarding Doctor Bloom?"

 

"At the time it might've had something to do with it," Will rubbed the back of his neck. He had exposed himself, divulging more of his heart than he had perhaps meant to, but Hannibal was not reciprocating and it had Will on edge. "You're angry. I've hurt you," Will guessed. It wasn't a guess at all; Will and his empathetic nature _knew_. He was only being generous enough to pretend he didn't know Hannibal more deeply than Hannibal was comfortable with.

 

Remaining silent would have been as much of an answer as any words Hannibal could speak, so he asked, "Is that so hard to believe?"

 

Will shrugged. "You act so composed all of the time; it's hard to imagine that you _could_ be wounded."

 

"And that bothers you."

 

"Y-yes!" Will stumbled on the word, holding it back and confessing in the same breath. "When you washed my hand of Randall's blood, you told me not to go inside. You told me to stay with you." Hannibal's words had been carefully locked away in Will's memory. "But I know that even when we are together, I am a mere pawn in your grand plan. I am not your lesser, Doctor Lecter."

 

They were back to Hannibal's title now. "No," Hannibal agreed. "You most certainly are not." He slid his glass to the edge of the table and stood from his desk, holding out a hand. "Come here, please."

 

Will considered his outstretched hand before standing and taking it. Hannibal led Will to lean against his desk long enough to undo his jacket and shirt and remove both articles of clothing. While Will continued to watch, Hannibal repeated the action with his own jacket, waistcoat, tie and shirt. Then he turned Will around to face the desk, hips bumping against the edge while his hands splayed across the surface to be grounded.

 

He held the curve of Will's waist with one hand and with the other he reached around Will's body to pluck his letter opener from where he kept it under his lamp. He could feel the warmth of the leather pouch and metal from the lamp's bulb as he slid the casing off with his thumb. Hannibal's chest was to Will's back as he held the letter opener on display for Will to examine. "What do you see?"

 

"A letter opener," Will said, not yet understanding.

 

"That is the intended image, yes. Something simple and innocuous." Hannibal now held both hands in front of Will, his arms brushing Will's bare sides, almost hugging him. He held the letter opener against his other palm, already prepared for the sting as blood beaded from the shallow cut caused by the sharpened metal. "Yet there is so much more to it."

 

Hannibal allowed it when Will held his hand with his own and licked the blood away. He pressed his lips to Will's shoulder blade as he closed his eyes, focused on sensation and Will's scent filling his nose. When Will was done, Hannibal moved both hands behind Will and out of sight. He placed the blunt edge of the letter opener against Will's spine, held it there. "May I mark you?" Hannibal requested. Will nodded quickly and braced his hands against the desk again.

 

The first line ran the length of Will's spine, from his neck down to his lower back where skin met fabric. A few more straight lines followed before Hannibal's hand began to curve up to Will's shoulders or down to his sides. Each shallow cut tracked the natural dips and curves of Will's shoulder blades and muscle, never cutting an unnatural course. Rarely did blood well up under Hannibal's surgical hands, but whenever it did Hannibal lapped it up with a warm tongue.

 

Once complete, Hannibal looked over his design of wings unfurling from Will's back. So beautiful. Hannibal had been blessed. "What did you draw?" Will questioned.

 

"You will see tonight when you go home," Hannibal said. He was unsure if he wanted to see Will's expression as he focused on understanding Hannibal's design choice to etch into his skin. "Turn around." Will turned until they were face to face. Hannibal held the letter opener out in the palm of his hand in offering. "Do you understand?" Hannibal wondered.

 

Will swallowed thickly as he took the letter opener and held it loosely in one hand, looking over the edges stained with his own blood. "No one has ever been as hard to read as you," Will admitted. "It leaves me second-guessing myself."

 

Hannibal touched a finger to Will's chin, tilting his gaze upward again. "Try. Trust yourself."

 

Will's hand gripped the letter opener more tightly but he didn't look away. "It would make more sense if I was just a pawn."

 

"It would."

 

"But I'm not."

 

"No, you're not," Hannibal said. "Why then, do I do what I do?"

 

"You wouldn't have shown me one of your hidden weapons if you didn't want to trust me," Will said tentatively. Hannibal cupped Will's cheek, listening intently. He would've cut anyone else down by now for knowing too much. But hearing Will peel back his layers, acknowledge and understand every part of him, was exhilarating. "You don't trust me yet, but you want to. That's why you gave me the weapon."

 

"And what will you do with it?" He didn't fool himself. There was still a chance that Will could have the blade at his throat in an instant, draining him.

 

It was difficult to contain his flinch when Will lifted a hand and pressed the letter opener against Hannibal's throat. This could be the end. He wouldn't mind going by Will's hand, although the betrayal would haunt him. Hannibal wondered if Will would cry for losing him if their bond was severed by the world or death. Or would Will smirk with satisfaction over his victory and walk away as Hannibal's vision dimmed?

 

He was not eager to discover the answer but he let Will press the blade to his throat even when he felt the sting of the metal cutting him when his throat constricted with a swallow. Hannibal could see in Will's eyes the consideration of the action and its consequences. There was true conflict there, and the balance could tip at any moment. He would understand if this is the ending for him that Will chose. After all, how could Will possibly love him after all the pain and suffering Hannibal had caused him?

 

Will moved and in the next moment Hannibal could feel warm lips brushing against his throat an inch above the blade. He lingered there for a long time and then removed both his mouth and the letter opener. Will considered the blade but didn't lift it again. He had made his choice. "I would mark you in return if not for Doctor Bloom," he answered Hannibal's earlier question.

 

Hannibal remembered the recent conversations he had had with Alana Bloom, and her budding paranoia. While now was the most crucial time to reassure her and maintain that relationship, Hannibal was not fool enough to avoid realizing that his ability to blind her was coming to an end. It made him less willing to push away Will and his desires, instead wishing to draw him closer. Sooner and sooner it seemed would come the time when it was the two of them against the whole world.

 

"My body is your canvas," Hannibal offered.

 

He didn't object when Will switched their positioning, Hannibal's hands resting on Will's old handprints from earlier. Hannibal tracked each cut of the letter opener into his skin and puzzled over Will's design. He didn't ask though, and Will didn't say. Will's tongue licked away any blood when he was finished and pulled away. The shadow of his blood on Will's bottom lip had Hannibal pulling Will into a kiss, however brief it lasted.

 

"You are my equal," Hannibal promised when their lips parted. "I may enjoy you in a submissive position but I would never consider you lesser."

 

Will nodded his understanding and smiled, though it was a tired one. The hour was late. "I need to get home and feed the dogs," Will rubbed at his eyes. Together they pulled their clothes back on slowly, not desiring to part but knowing they must. "Alana is beginning to suspect you as well as me," Will added thoughtfully.

 

Hannibal tightened the knot of his tie. "I know."

 

Will's smile fell when Hannibal said nothing further and he stood up straighter. "I should go—"

 

"Will," Hannibal caught Will's hand to stop him from leaving. He brushed his thumb over the back of Will's hand, hoping it felt soothing to his partner. "I have spent my whole life hiding my true nature from the world as a matter of self-preservation. I know you understand."

 

"I do," Will said, lacing their fingers together. "It was selfish of me to demand more than what you've already given."

 

"Will," he hesitated. Will squeezed his hand. "For you... I will try."

 

Will's smile was surprised, warm and affectionate. It was enough to assure Hannibal that this risk would be worth it. He couldn't ask Will to change for him without being willing to change in return. "I'll try too," Will murmured. "I've held back."

 

They left the office together, their hands parted but their shoulders brushing on their climb down the stairs. Hannibal walked Will to his car and then got into his own, driving home and preparing a small meal. He ate in silence, deep in thought, and then moved directly to the bedroom with the intention of sleeping. Hannibal was detained by the mirrors in his bathroom when he peeled off his shirt, taking in the sight of Will's etchings on his back. He considered the antlers Will had bestowed on his skin for a long time. He wondered if Will was smiling again, considering his wings and recognizing all the similarities between their designs the way Hannibal was.

 

#

 

Hannibal was not one to hesitate. He took his time making and perfecting every plan before taking action. He mapped out every link in his web, determined who would be affected and how they would respond, what would be required to subdue and suppress dangerous reactions. The plan had been forming in Hannibal's mind for a long time; much had come to fruition but there was still a ways to go.

 

And Hannibal found himself... wavering.

 

It was an unfamiliar and frustrating experience for him. Before he had only had to consider his own happiness and wellbeing, and despite his expensive tastes and decadent palate, he was easy to please. But then Will had been thrust into Hannibal's sphere of awareness and Hannibal had been ruined, though he hadn't understood how thoroughly until this moment. He wanted Will as a hunting partner, as a friend and a lover. And without Hannibal's conscious awareness – or maybe he had just been in denial – Will's happiness was threatening to trump Hannibal's own.

 

It was mildly terrifying.

 

He knew having Margot's unborn child removed would devastate Will. He had been unable to protect Abigail, had not even come close to recovering from that loss, and would now lose another child. Will may never be alright again, after that second loss. He may never forgive himself for his inability to protect those he considered under his care. Fatherhood – something Will had probably always considered beyond his reach as he was shunned by the world – snatched from his fingertips twice in less than a year.

 

No, Will would not be okay.

 

But Hannibal assured himself that it was a necessary action to take. He told himself it would hurt less for Will to lose his unborn child now while it was still more of an idea than an actual being Will had cradled in his arms, held tightly and smiled down upon. Hannibal remembered Mischa again, and the way his soul had torn when she was stolen from him too young, too soon. He was protecting Will from that.

 

Hannibal could still bring Abigail back into Will's life; would, if he was certain that Will would still choose him in the end. He would not allow anyone to come between them; not even Abigail who so dearly reminded Hannibal of Mischa, or this bundle of cells growing in Margot's body that was half Will's beautiful creation. Will was Hannibal's weakness, and Will's children were his. If Hannibal could, he would help Will protect Abigail, at least. If not, Hannibal would put Will's broken pieces back together with tender dedication.

 

His certainty renewed, Hannibal spoke hushed words to the two Vergers, leading them to the desired end, knowing where this would lead and who it would hurt. It was mid-afternoon when Hannibal received a call from the hospital and he did not delay in pulling on his coat and getting into his car. He didn't bother calling Will, assuming he would have been the first person called.

 

Will was there when Hannibal arrived. His body was perfectly still as he stood over Margot, unconscious in her hospital bed. Judging by the expression on Will's face, a nurse must have already informed him of the news. Hannibal did not know how long Will had been standing there, and he did not ask. He also didn't ask what had happened, because he felt it would have been rude in this moment to act so falsely ignorant.

 

Hannibal only studied Margot for a moment before turning to Will, his whole body angled towards the man he had promised not to hurt, and had hurt anyway. Will turned his head slightly, though his eyes never traveled further than the floor, maybe Hannibal's elbow at best. Then his whole body turned and Will was striding away, refusing to offer Hannibal his gaze. Will knew Hannibal's part; he had to, and he was rejecting Hannibal as punishment. Taking away the only thing he knew Hannibal cared about.

 

Hannibal overlooked Margot one last time and then pursued Will down the hall and out into the parking lot. Wind and snow hit his face but did not slow him as he saw Will getting into his car and slamming the door behind him. Hannibal tested the door handle when he reached the driver's side but wasn't surprised when he found it locked.

 

Will's head was bowed, face cradled in his palms. Had the window been rolled down Hannibal knew he would smell more of Will's heartrending tears, even if Will managed to stifle any sobs. Hannibal tapped lightly on the window, encouraging Will to open up. Not just his car, but his body and his heart. Allow Hannibal to gather up the pieces and hold him close.

 

The gentle knocking had Will's head lifting, but Will did not turn his tear-stained face to Hannibal. Instead he purposefully slotted his key in the ignition and drove out of the parking spot quickly, showing no sign of caring if he accidentally bumped into Hannibal on the way. Hannibal was parked on the other end of the parking lot and knew he would not be able to catch up. He was forced to let Will go, knowing that it was his fault.


	5. Chapter 5

Will arrived at Hannibal's office at 7:30pm sharp, but the Will that strode through the door and into his preordained seat was not the same. Not the Will who had fallen asleep in Hannibal's lap by the fire in his study. Not the Will who consciously moved from the guest bed to meet Hannibal beneath the sheets. Certainly not the Will who had so openly shown his desire by catching Hannibal's neck and dragging him into a hungry kiss while spread across Hannibal's dining table.

 

No, not the same. That Will was in there still, but masked by a vibrating anger. Will sat up straight in his chair and found no challenge in meeting and holding Hannibal's stare as they sat across from one another. He took pride in his words; in his work. "I told Mason you plan to kill him." Consciously Hannibal stopped himself from blinking in surprise. Maybe Will had been hoping for a different, less controlled reaction, because he grew goading. "Can you explain my actions? Can you posit my intentions? What would be your theory of my mind?"

 

"I have an understanding of your state of mind. You understand mine. We are just alike," Hannibal acknowledged. Will's petulance irked him but he contained it. Hannibal had taken something dear from Will, and it would be unfair to not expect a swipe of wrath in response. Will had a strong sense of justice, and vengeance when justice was splintered. It remained one of the biggest hurdles in Hannibal's plans for Will's evolution. The sharpness of Will's blade that still posed a danger. "This gives you the capacity to deceive me; and be deceived by me."

 

"I'm not deceiving you, Doctor Lecter." They remained with Hannibal's title. "I'm just pointing out the snare around your neck. What you do about it is entirely up to you." Will's attempt to appear blasé was maimed by his rippling smugness.

 

Hannibal was more focused on unravelling Will's true motives, hidden beneath petty anger too willingly displayed on a silver platter for Hannibal to examine. He wanted Hannibal to kill Mason Verger in an important play on a chessboard hidden behind Will's back. The fact that Will kept it hidden was his mistake, because it tipped Hannibal off to ill intentions. "You put the snare around my neck," Hannibal accused knowingly, and Will bowed his head in agreement. "Why did you tell Mason Verge I want to kill him?"

 

Will's lips parted but he hesitated, as though trying to find the right words. Hannibal suspected Will had already chosen these words, scripted this conversation in his head in advance. "I was curious what would happen." Hannibal assumed a ploy. This was too perfect. Though that knowledge – the warning ringing in his ear from years of honed survival instincts – could not entirely dampen the desire he felt for Will as he voiced those words. "It's true, isn't it? You do want to kill him. Or you want me to kill him. Either way you'd like him dead." Neither of them had blinked. "I'm just giving you a little nudge."

 

As if Hannibal needed a nudge, as if Will was the veteran to harnessing his most primal instincts to hunt, overwhelm, devour. But this relationship would progress no further if Hannibal pushed Will out now. They would both be required to open up, trust too deeply, risk too many mistakes. Hannibal, too, was curious. "Mason is discourteous. And discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me." He did not hide his hint of reprimand for Will's attitude.

 

Will looked amused, not scared so easily. Maybe the intention was to test Hannibal's boundaries, see how much he would suffer from his lover rather than from another being. Maybe, after Hannibal's act against Will's chance of fatherhood, they were no longer lovers in Will's mind. Maybe this was a reflexive attack. "Are you thinking about eating him?"

 

"Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude."

 

Will's eyebrows rose. There was still dark playfulness beneath his skin. "Free-range rude."

 

Hannibal almost allowed a smile. "Would you join me at the table?"

 

"Mason Verger is a pig and he deserves to be somebody's bacon." That wave of hatred was solely for Mason, the one who had physically torn Will's unborn from his grasp. Will wanted Mason dead as well. "Maybe you should kill Mason during your next session."

 

"He may be intending to kill me during our next session," Hannibal said. He was already preparing for such an event.

 

"Then you'll have to kill him first."

 

Will had no remorse over putting Hannibal in this predicament. "You said you were curious what would happen. I want you to close your eyes, Will. Imagine what you would like to happen." Will sat back in his chair but made no show of relaxation. Will eyed him for another long moment before his eyes slid closed. Despite the shadows in the room, Hannibal saw the twitching of Will's eyelashes as his let his imagination free.

 

When Will opened his eyes again, Hannibal saw his own death reflected in that gaze. "What did you see?" he asked, but didn't need Will's answer to know. The smile Will provided was that of a predator with its eyes locked on its chosen prey. Will did not seem interested in responding verbally and Hannibal got up to pour them both a glass of wine. "We're maintaining our position on the event horizon of chaos."

 

"Your veneer of self-composure gives a strong sense of the surreal." Will accepted the wine glass. "So much about this feels like a dream."

 

"Dreams prepare us for waking life." Hannibal retook his seat, but sat on the edge, drawn to Will in this moment.

 

"It's one thing to dream; it's another to understand the nature of the dream," Will sipped his wine, red coating his lips and tongue.

 

"You're waking up to who you are. That's all you need to understand." Politely he pretended to not notice the way Will was still watching him. He wondered if it excited Will or annoyed him that Hannibal appeared unbothered by this shift. "There are extraordinary circumstances here, Will. And unusual opportunities."

 

"For whom?"

 

"For both of us."

 

"Mason Verger is an opportunity?"

 

"Mason Verger is a problem. Problem solving is hunting." Now Will seemed less willing to meet Hannibal's unwavering eyes. "It's a savage pleasure, and we are born to it. A pleasure we can share."

 

Hannibal had organized the pieces to allow Will to easily step into Mason Verger's personal space and open his throat with his hunting knife. Hannibal had planted true motivation for hatred that would assist Will in shrugging off the repressed existence society had taught him to uphold; the boundaries to toe. But Hannibal was not opposed to joining Will in the hunt and kill of Mason Verger. After all, true predators in nature sank their teeth into the flesh of their kills alongside their mate.

 

"You're fostering co-dependency," Will accused as he set his glass down.

 

Hannibal paused before taking his next sip. "Is that what I'm doing?" He drank deeply and placed his own glass on the table.

 

"Isn't that what you did to Abigail? Got her to take a life so she would owe you hers?" How much was speculation, and how much was concrete knowledge Will had gleaned from the rare glimpses Hannibal had allowed Will during their moments of intimacy? Hannibal sat back and didn't provide an answer. Now Will was the one to sit forward in his chair, the urge to lash out coiling.

 

"I bond with Abigail; you take her away. I bond with barely more than the _idea_ of a child; you take it away." Will laced his fingers together. If it had not been that action, his hands would have curled into fists, Hannibal was sure. "You saw to it that I alienated Alana, alienated Jack. You don't want me to have anything in my life that's not you."

 

"I only want what's best for you." The truest words he had probably ever spoken.

 

Will did not appreciate them. " _Please_ ," he hissed a laugh between his bared teeth. "Every moment of cogent thought under your psychiatric care is a personal victory."

 

Hannibal's surprise did not show on his face, but it echoed in his chest. Will was calling him out and Hannibal couldn't bring himself to mind. "You're applying yourself to my perspective, as I've been applying myself to yours."

 

"You're right. We are just alike," Will said. "You're as alone as I am. And we're both alone without each other. So..." Will hesitated. "Where does that leave us?"

 

The bond between them had been tested, frayed, considered, repaired, and would come out stronger. Will was fully aware of all slights against him by Hannibal's hand; he was not ignorant to the nature of the man courting him. And Will remained. Angry, hurt, but lingering. Will was no longer alone in this world, and he would fight to keep that companionship the way Hannibal would.

 

Still, the move against Will's unborn would not be easily forgiven. "You tell me."

 

Will sipped more wine to keep his hands occupied. "What is best for me, Doctor Lecter?"

 

"To discover your true nature," Hannibal stated with confidence. "To embrace it and live a life of your own making, rather than the one society has left you with." To be free of the insecurities and self-hatred the world had poisoned Will with since it knew of his nature.

 

"With you as my guide."

 

"If you will allow me," Hannibal conceded.

 

"You expect me to forgive you for everything you've taken from me?" Will's voice was jagged.

 

"I do not expect forgiveness," Hannibal said. "I can only hope for it, with time."

 

They had another twenty one minutes left of their session but Will was finished. He stood and shrugged into his coat. Will was still very angry, very hurt, and he would not yet accept Hannibal's hand in tending to those wounds. "It won't be tonight."

 

The door clicked closed behind him and Hannibal sighed, finger brushing the smooth stem of the wine glass idly. "It appears not," he said to himself.

 

#

 

As darkness receded from his vision, Hannibal took in his situation. Arms bound securely in a straightjacket which was chained to a crane's arm overhead. His bare feet dangled far enough off the ground that he was effectively helpless. Even the draft in the warehouse could send him in a slow spin or sway. Hannibal spoke to Carlo Deogracias, Mason Verger's paid pet, first, goading him. Mason arrived next, stopping Carlo from cutting the entertainment short.

 

And then there was Will Graham.

 

Hannibal's Will? He wasn't as certain as he wished he was. Voices, not his own, echoed from his memories.

 

Jack to Hannibal: " _I don't know who's pursuing whom_."

 

Will to Margot, maybe. Perhaps to himself: " _Survive him_."

 

Hannibal was disappointed. This had been set up by Mason Verger. Hannibal would not have the honour of death by Will's personal design. He watched Mason take the knife from Carlo and press it into Will's hand. It would not even be Will's hunting knife to sever Hannibal's arteries. Truly a lacklustre end, though perhaps this was the best course for Will. Hannibal had been too selfish to accept the possibility that it may be his ashes Will needed to be born from.

 

"I've muzzled the dog; now, it's time for you to put him down." Hannibal watched Mason's hand on Will's shoulder until it slid away, Mason stepping aside. Will hesitated a moment and then took a large step forward, removing the distance between them in the same moment that the knife was brought to Hannibal's throat. "Don't bleed him out!" Mason called out but didn't move forward to pull Will away. "Just a little nick; just enough to give the pigs a taste."

 

Mason Verger's giddiness made Hannibal's fingers twitch minutely.

 

He watched Will look from the blade against Hannibal's throat to his eyes. Hannibal tilted his head the merest inch. An, ' _If you must_.' He wanted to be there to watch Will come into his own, rejoice with him, but no matter how this ended, Will would be a changed man. The decision was made in the instant between heartbeats and Will grabbed his arm, spinning him to slice through the material of the straightjacket.

 

Hannibal landed on his feet and shed the torn fabric as he heard the thud and grunt of a fist hitting flesh and bone. By the time Hannibal turned, Will was already on the ground with his consciousness slipping away. Hannibal lunged over him to ram his elbow against Carlo's temple, sending him to the ground like a bag of stones. Mason's other lackey was slow-moving and his neck snapped before he properly reacted.

 

It was easy then to corner Mason, who was armed with his own blade and skilled but was too reckless in his actions. It didn't take long to knock Mason's knife from his grasp and get an arm around his throat, squeezing tight until the younger man went limp in his arms and slumped to the floor. The warehouse was silent except for the squealing pigs. Maybe they already smelled human blood in the air.

 

Hannibal took the blade Will had dropped and sliced Carlo's throat first, followed by the other lackey's, taking Mason's advice to _give the pigs a taste_. He heaved Carlo into the pig pen first, ears assaulted by the racket of the pigs as they were presented with their first meal. It would take them some time to work through Carlo but Hannibal would not let the other man go to waste.

 

He strung the second dead man up by the same chain that had held him aloft. Blood had already soaked down from his slashed neck into his coat and shirt and Hannibal's palms came away red. Hannibal found the crane controls and moved the man over the pig pen opening. His blood rained on the pigs waiting below. Hannibal lowered him down and there were a few twitches of the cable when the man was nipped at.

 

If Will had been awake, Hannibal would have asked him how much it reminded the younger man of fishing. As it was, Hannibal turned away from the carnage, wiped his hands clean on a handkerchief from his pocket, and knelt beside Will's unconscious body. He pressed a finger to Will's neck, reassured by his strong pulse. Hannibal brushed aside Will's curls needlessly, kissed his forehead, and then stood to heft Mason Verger into his arms.

 

He would not take Will with him; would not forcefully drag Will along.

 

Now he wanted Will to act on his own and come to Hannibal.

 

It was a familiar drive to Will's house out in the middle of nowhere, and child's play to pick the lock and move Mason into one of the armchairs in Will's living room. Mason began to stir only when he breathed in the psychedelic compound Hannibal had brought especially for this. His eyes were blown wide and Mason seemed incapable of quelling his laughter for more than a moment at a time.

 

Hannibal returned the blade to Mason's care and gave him an order to demonstrate how his father would check the depth of a pig's fat. Eyes crossed, Mason reached out with the blade towards one of Will's dogs who was standing nearby with foolish curiosity. Hannibal caught Mason immediately and pushed him back with a gentle nudge, away from Will's dog. Hannibal had made his mistakes; he would not let anything else Will cared for be hurt or taken away from him.

 

At Hannibal's command, Mason began slicing at his flesh and feeding it to Will's dogs in thin, tantalizing strips. The dogs were eager and Hannibal did not steal the treat from them. Instead he sat aside and watched, waiting for Will to awaken and return. The sun set and Hannibal repeatedly brushed aside the waves of worry licking at his heels. He had felt Will's pulse; the man was fine.

 

When one of the dogs, Hannibal remembering the name to be Winston, began to whine and scratch at the front door, Hannibal let him out onto the front yard to do his business. Winston made no indication of wanting to return and Hannibal left him on the porch. Hannibal heard the sound of tires driving up in the snow but remained where he was, lights off in the house while Mason continued to chuckle and cut away inches of his face.

 

Will didn't see Hannibal when he entered the room. His focus was on Mason and the squelch sound of his dogs' teeth chewing blood-soaked flesh. "I should have put you in a cage with Doctor Lecter," Mason babbled. "I'm curious what would've happened."

 

"What are you feeding my dogs?" Will asked, horror overwhelming his voice and stance.

  
Hannibal moved to stand at Will's shoulder, overlooking the display as Mason laughed at what he considered to be a funny joke. "Just me!"

 

Will turned to Hannibal, silently demanding an explanation. "What Mason is experiencing isn't restricted to reality, so reality has to be forced to adapt."

 

"He fed his face to my dogs."

 

"He broadened their palates as I broadened yours," Hannibal said. He did not consider an apology necessary. Apologies implied remorse. They both watched Mason for a moment as he sawed off another seemingly troublesome strip of skin. Then Hannibal stepped closer so that Will would look at him again. "Murder or mercy?"

 

They would do this together, regardless of the decision.

 

"There is no mercy," Will said hollowly. "We make mercy. Manufacture it in the parts that have overgrown our basic reptile brain."

 

"Then there is no murder," Hannibal concluded. "We make murder too. It matters only to us. You know too well you possess all the elements to make murder. Perhaps mercy too," Hannibal acknowledged the crossroad Will and, by association, Hannibal was standing at. Which choice? Which action? Which result? Which future? "But murder you understand uncomfortably well." The minds of countless serial killers Will had viewed would've seen to that, if not for Will's innate ability lying dormant and awaiting its awakening.

 

"I'm hungry!"

 

"Eat your nose then," Hannibal said to Mason; a punishment for so rudely interrupting upon a moment that should only be his and Will's. He had no pity for Mason's display, only annoyance.

 

"I'm not gonna kill him," Will declared and looked to Hannibal for his reaction.

 

"He was going to feed you to his pigs after he fed them me," Hannibal sought one last jab to attempt pushing Will over the edge. "Weren't you Mason?"

 

"I was."

 

Will turned his body to face Hannibal fully. "He's your patient, doctor. You do what you think is best for him."

 

By deciding to not kill Mason, Will had chosen mercy, even if it was a twisted, vengeful mercy to prolong Mason's suffering. Will passed the decision to Hannibal, curious to know what Hannibal would choose. Except there was no choice for Hannibal when Will had already made it. It registered in his mind that Will may want Hannibal to kill Mason to trap him with the law. But Will had saved Hannibal while strung up when Will could've cut his throat. Hannibal hoped that meant something. More than that, there was no value in a partnership if they did not support the other's decisions.

 

Hannibal broke Mason's neck, confirmed his pulse, and then wiped the blood onto Mason's sleeves. "I think the best thing for him now would be to return him to his sister's care," Hannibal said.

 

Will felt for Mason's pulse as well, letting Hannibal watch. "I'll help," he said after a moment.

 

As a team they removed Mason from Will's living room and got him back in the trunk of Hannibal's car where he had already traveled once before. Hannibal cleaned Will's living room while Will cleaned the blood from his dogs' fur and mouths. They each allowed the other to clean their wounds and then slid into Hannibal's car.

 

Hannibal called ahead and Margot was awaiting their arrival. Mason was placed just outside the pig's pen in the main warehouse, tracks were brushed away, and they left Margot to call whatever medics she deemed necessary. Margot would not turn them in, nor Mason; Hannibal was certain of that. Mason, in particular, would not allow anyone to get in the way of exacting his revenge.

 

Despite the late hour, Will asked that they go to Hannibal's office, claiming that he would not be able to sleep anytime soon. Hannibal tasked Will with breathing life into a fire in his office's hearth while Hannibal heated up some leftovers he had kept in the small fridge in the back room. Will was deep in thought and, after offering a polite ' _thank you_ ', took his container of food and sat by the window while he ate.

 

Hannibal ate quickly and set away the container to be washed later. Then he pulled out a drawing he had started after his last conversation with Will in this room. After a while Will approached, and Hannibal looked up to read his face while Will studied the drawing. "Achilles lamenting the death of Patroclus," he said. "Whenever he is mentioned in the Iliad, Patroclus seems to be defined by his empathy."

 

It always pleased him that Will was a learned man. "He became Achilles on the field of war. He died for him there, wearing his armour."

 

"He did." Hannibal continued to sketch. While his hand moved, his mind roved over everything he knew about Will. Trying to pinpoint what was the mask and what was the man's true nature; what was an enticing lure to trap him and what was Will's genuine desire for his presence. "Hiding and revealing identity is a constant theme throughout the Greek epics."

 

"As are battle-tested friendships." Each word was tentative. Hannibal was unsure if it was foolish to hope that Will wanted to repair their strained bond.

 

"Achilles wished all Greeks would die, so that he and Patroclus could conquer Troy alone." Their eyes met and held. Will was beautiful in the dancing light of the fire. "It took divine intervention to bring them down."

 

It was a fantasy Hannibal understood well. It seemed that Will did too, because he cupped Hannibal's jaw a moment before sealing their lips together. Hannibal continued to sit but rested a hand on Will's elbow. His eyes slid closed and he kissed Will back, relishing in the brush of lips he had already begun to miss. They had not been on opposing sides for long – far less time than the years Hannibal had lived before discovering Will's existence. But that brief interlude made the taste of Will's quiet moan sweeter.

 

Far too soon Will leaned back, wavered, and then stepped away towards the fireplace. "This isn't sustainable. We're going to get caught."

 

"Jack already suspects you killed Freddie Lounds."

 

"If Jack told you he suspects me, that means he suspects you."

 

"I know."

 

Will seemed to ponder for a moment. "You should give him what he wants."

 

"Give him the Chesapeake Ripper?" Regardless of their shared emotion a moment prior, they had returned to dangerous territory. Hannibal was still being hunted, and Will had not yet made his final choice. He wondered if the decision would be one of calculation or passion.

 

"Allow him closure. Reveal yourself," Will encouraged. "You've taunted him for long enough. Let him see you with clear eyes."

 

"Jack has become my friend. I suppose I owe him the truth." Both statements true, though Hannibal had no intention of handing himself over to the authorities. Friendship, however genuine, would not still Jack from reaching for handcuffs or a loaded gun; whichever was handier. No, Hannibal was a survivor. He would play along with Will's plan, hope that Will would choose him, and prepare to run in case Will didn't. "We will need to plan."

 

"You're sure?" Now Will hesitated. Torn between wanting to catch the serial killer he had been born to catch, and save the man he had never meant to grow fond of.

 

"Yes. Come," Hannibal beckoned. They returned to their seats where they could face each other in more comfort. "We will need time to prepare. I will give Jack his catharsis before taking his life. After that we will need to disappear. Collect our belongings, destroy any evidence. You will need to find someone to leave your dogs to." Will was silent, weighed down in his chair. "Will."

 

Will's eyes flickered up, his fingers curled on the armrests. "Hannibal."

 

"You sit in that chair, Will, as you have so many times before," Hannibal's voice turned soft at the return to his given name. "It holds among its molecules the vibrations of all our conversations ever held in its presence."

 

Will should be giddy to know that his plan to trap Hannibal was running smoothly. He wasn't. A weight was pressing down on Will's shoulders as he avoided Hannibal's eyes. His face was worn, sad. "All the exchanges, the petty irritations, deadly revelations, flat announcements of disaster." Each nostalgic word drew Will deeper into a visual despair as he was finally forced to confront the realization that if he continued to pursue this, he would lose the only man in the world who not only accepted him with open arms, but encouraged, supported and adored him.

 

It was a sad and beautiful realization for Hannibal to watch as it passed over Will's face, knowing he had done his work well. "The grunts and poetry of life." Death and love. "Everything we've ever said. Listen," he whispered. "What do you hear?"

 

"A melody," Will whispered back.

 

"We're orchestrations of carbon. You and me." Designs of particles meant to be together but kept apart by the universe in fear of their union.

 

Will's mouth twisted as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. "And Jack."

 

"And Jack," Hannibal agreed. Until Will made his final choice, Hannibal could not forget the other man. "All our destinies flying and swimming in blood and emptiness."

 

Will's eyes strayed to the fire, his imagination drifting further. "Jack won't be easy to kill," Will warned him. "He'll be armed. He's strong, well-trained. We can't hesitate."

 

A warmth he hadn't felt recently filled Hannibal's chest at that one word: _we_. "When a fox hears a rabbit scream, he comes running. But not to help. When you hear Jack scream, why will you come running?" He read each dichotomized thought that flashed across Will's face as Will closed his eyes, envisioning the moment soon to come. "When the moment comes... Will you do what needs to be done?"

 

Will opened his eyes slowly. "Oh yes."

 

If Will was lying, Hannibal wanted to be fooled. They would consummate their bond by taking Jack Crawford's life together. He was encouraged enough to stand in front of Will's chair and claim another kiss from Will's mouth. Will did not need Hannibal's finger under his chin to lean up into the kiss, but it was obvious that his emotions had been soured. If Hannibal lived, Jack would die. If Jack lived, Hannibal died.

 

"Shall I take you home?" Hannibal asked.

 

Will turned away in embarrassment at allowing his emotions such an open display. "I'm sorry."

 

"No one is dead yet," Hannibal assured him.

 

Will sucked in an unsteady breath; he had a lot to think about. Hannibal nudged Will out of the chair and after they both had their coats and gloves on, Hannibal began driving them back towards Wolf Trap. It didn't take long for Will to fall asleep, curled up against the window with a pained frown. Hannibal didn't wake him, even when they arrived at Will's house. He manoeuvred Will carefully into his arms and managed to get Will tucked into bed.

 

Hannibal wanted to join Will so that they would wake up together, but he did not know if he was welcome. So with one final, lingering kiss to Will's temple, Hannibal locked the door behind him and returned to his own bed to warm the cold sheets alone.


	6. Chapter 6

"These are your notes on me."

 

Hannibal looked over the railing at the notebook Will had spread open. He did not need Will's statement to know for certain. His fingers had skimmed fondly over the spine of the book as he looked through the notes, considering saving it, before releasing it from his fingers to fall below. "So they are."

 

Hannibal returned to skimming the names on the other notebooks in his hands before quickly disposing of them as well. Will had greeted him with a shy kiss and hands on his hips when arriving at Hannibal's office to assist in destroying what needed erasing, but Hannibal remained somewhat aloft. It would not do to trust so fully when Will was still so obviously unsure of what his decision would be.

 

"Won't your patients need these after you're gone?" Will asked when Hannibal joined him by the fire with another stack of notebooks.

 

"The FBI will pore over my notes if I left them intact. I will spare my patients the scrutiny," Hannibal said. "I'm dismantling who I was and moving it brick by brick." His words trailed off as he set more books and pages in his fire, hearing it crackle hungrily for more. Then he turned to regard his office in its entirety. "When we've gone from this life, Jack Crawford and the FBI behind us, I will always have this place."

 

Hannibal had enjoyed his time in Baltimore, but had not expected to feel sentimental about leaving. His house, study and kitchen could be recreated. His practice would continue if he chose, in an office set up however he pleased. There would always be rude swine to cut down and devour, social gatherings to hold and attend, opinions to befuddle and sway. Nothing about Baltimore was irreplaceable.

 

Except Will.

 

This office was where Hannibal had met Will, been besotted, and staked his claim if only in the privacy of his own mind. It was where Will had first sought his company and trusted Hannibal with his mind. This office was where Will had become Hannibal's, as much as when Hannibal had had Will against the wall or spread on his table.

 

Hannibal would always have the memories. But if Will did not choose him, that was _all_ Hannibal would be left with when he fled to start anew.

 

"In your memory palace?" Will wondered, the term remembered from one of their previous conversations.

 

"My palace is vast, even by medieval standards. The foyer is of Norman Chapel in Palermo," he said proudly. He wished Will could see the images in his head, or that Will would allow Hannibal to take him to see the original. "Severe and beautiful and timeless, with a single reminder of mortality. A skull, graven in the floor."

 

Will offered a small, private smile. "All I need is a stream."

 

"In those moments where you can't overcome your surroundings, you can make it all go away."

 

"Put my head back, close my eyes... wade into the quiet of the stream." The calmness of Will's words implied that a part of Will was in that stream now, water rushing against his legs. An escape from the turmoil of an uncertain future ahead of him. When Will spoke like that with Hannibal – so open and honest – Hannibal could almost imagine the stream as well. Maybe work a forest with a babbling brook into a central courtyard of his memory palace so that a part of Will would always be close at hand.

 

"If I'm ever apprehended, my memory palace will serve as more than a mnemonic system. I will live there."

  
"Could you be happy there?" Will was far too invested in the answer, seeking reassurance that Hannibal would be alright even if he was not chosen.  


Hannibal would not make abandoning him any easier on Will. He was not selfless enough. "All the palace chambers are not lovely, light and bright. In the walls of our hearts and brains, danger waits. There are holes in the floor of the mind." He pretended to not notice the despair Will tried to swallow down at those words, aimlessly shifting the notebooks on his desk.

 

Unconscious or not of his actions, Will forced Hannibal to pay attention by stepping into his personal space and blocking Hannibal's hands from the distracting notebooks. While Will took up the presentation of pretending to be busy with the notebooks, Hannibal rested a hand on his hip and leaned in closer. He would not turn away such a lovely offering.

 

However, when he breathed in deeply in a hope to memorize Will's natural scent so that he could conjure it up in future, he was caught off guard. It was not Will that Hannibal smelled, but another whom Hannibal never believed he would smell again. He kept his eyes closed, a face and bright vibrant hair painting a picture in his mind with angry splashes of colour. Freddie Lounds, alive and well.

 

Will had moved out of his grasp to throw more books in the fire, which was good because it meant he missed the flinch of Hannibal's fingers. Hannibal considered Will's back and then had to look away, betrayal like acidic bile clawing at the back of his throat. He had never meant for Will to grow so close in his heart, or for this result to hurt so terribly. But he had, and it did.

 

"Excuse me."

 

"Hannibal?" Will called after him with concern as Hannibal strode across the office and slipped into the tiny adjoined bathroom. The click of the lock sliding into place was steadying. The sound of the knob catching against the lock when Will tried to pursue him was assaulting. "Hannibal, are you okay?"

 

"Yes," Hannibal lied.

 

"Are you sure?" There should not be genuine concern there; it wasn't fair. Will wasn't playing fair.

 

Hannibal couldn't lie again. "I will only be a moment, please. Do not concern yourself."

 

He waited for the sound of retreating footsteps before moving to stand at the small window and pull back the curtains. Snow fell slowly in drifting circles. The pane of glass was sharp with chill against his palm when Hannibal held his hand against the window. Centering himself. He had played the willing fool, in denial of the fact that Will had already made his decision.

 

Hannibal would not kill Will; _could not_. But he would hurt Will for this, for hurting him. Hannibal had opened himself up to Will and his judgement, had offered more of himself and his companionship than he had thought he was capable of giving. And Will had deemed Hannibal mediocre, unworthy of acceptance and protection in return.

 

Hannibal had kept Abigail safe and tucked away, planning to bring together what he had previously broken. She would still be useful, but in a different form now. Will planned to take everything from Hannibal, and Hannibal would return the favour. He would return Abigail only long enough for her death to cut that much deeper.

 

It stung; Hannibal would admit it. But he would survive this, as he had survived so much else in his life. His final decision made, Hannibal drew the curtains closed, flushed the unused toilet, and washed his hands. Will was standing close by when Hannibal re-emerged and approached slowly. Hannibal swallowed the bitterness on the back of his tongue, smiled, and rested a warm hand on Will's shoulder in a reassuring fashion.

 

"You sure you're alright?" Will prodded, eyes searching as he leaned into Hannibal's touch.

 

"I am not ill," Hannibal assured him. "Though I think I will still feel better once all of this is finished." Will still wavered and Hannibal committed himself fully. He slid his fingers up into Will's curls and kissed his mouth greedily. It was not hard to pretend. Hannibal finished by nipping Will's jaw, drawing a breathless whine, and then asked. "Are you still joining me for dinner tonight?"

 

"I wasn't sure..." Will hesitated, eyes hazy. Then Hannibal's reassuring actions took effect and Will smiled shyly. Hannibal could remember Will like this. "I mean, yeah. Yeah, I am. I'll have to go soon to teach my class but I'll be there in time for dinner."

 

"You may go now to avoid running late," Hannibal offered with a genial smile. "The last of these notebooks just need to be burned and then I will be heading home to begin preparations."

 

Will insisted on staying to help until the last pages browned, curled, and fell away as ash.

 

Hannibal let him.

 

#

 

Lamb seemed the appropriate choice, and Hannibal invested himself in the preparation of a perfect dinner. The sun had set by the time Will taught his class, let his dogs out for a walk, and arrived on Hannibal's doorstep. By then everything was ready and Hannibal merely tasked Will with the pouring of wine before heading into the dining room.

 

Will chose the same seat as always, back to the fireplace and face painted in shadow. Tonight, Hannibal sat at the head of the table instead of across the table in a dance of balance. Will likely noticed the shift, but didn't say anything. There was far too much food on the table, but Hannibal would always go above and beyond for Will. Their plates had already been filled and emptied but they remained where they sat.

 

Hannibal gave in to the need to speak. "Do you know what an imago is, Will?"

 

"It's a flying insect."  


"It's the last stage of a transformation."

 

Will was paying full attention now. He recognized the purposefully-chosen subject, but did not yet know the lesson to be learned. "When you become who you will be?"

 

"It's also a term from the dead religion of psychoanalysis. An imago is an image of a loved one, buried in the unconscious, carried with us all our lives." He supposed the tinge of his sadness might be audible.

 

"An ideal."

 

"The concept of an ideal..." Hannibal balked, and then continued. "I have a concept of you, just as you have a concept of me."

 

"Neither of us ideal." An apology for the truth.

 

They had been made to be together, but in equal measure that gave them the power to destroy the other the way no one else ever could. There had been potential, which had blinded Hannibal to their inevitable doom. "Both of us are too curious about too many things for any ideals." Was it worth one last attempt, despite the wounds Will had inflicted? "Is it ideal that Jack die?"

 

"It's necessary." Anticipated remorse. "What happens to Jack has been preordained."

 

Hannibal heard his own name replaced in that sentence. This wasn't the ending he had worked for. "We could disappear now. Tonight." Will looked at him in confusion, knowing Hannibal's nature did not predispose him to running from a fight. Hannibal pressed on. "Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite."

 

"Then this would be our last supper," Will said with a sad smile.

 

"Of this life," Hannibal reminded him. They could start a new one. "I served lamb."

 

"Sacrificial," Will acknowledged.

 

"I don't need a sacrifice," Hannibal spoke earnestly. "Do you?"

 

"I need him to know." Will's eyes lifted, lost in a vision. "If I confessed to Jack Crawford right now—"

 

"I would forgive you."

 

He understood now that this wasn't just about bringing Hannibal to justice. Will believed he too needed to be revealed and torn down for everything he had done – and everything he had considered doing. Will had killed and mutilated Randall Tier. He had _not_ killed and burned Freddie Lounds, but Hannibal knew by the constant gravitational pull he felt towards a primal part of Will, that Will had _wanted_ to. He had wanted to torture and kill Mason Verger, and make Hannibal pay for what he had taken.   
  
"If Jack were to tell you all is forgiven, would you accept his forgiveness?" Hannibal wondered. If Jack could offer the same unconditional forgiveness that Hannibal promised, who would Will reach for? Return to his life in Wolf Trap alone except for his dogs, teaching and being used as a tool until he broke and was cast aside, feared, shunned and mocked? Hannibal couldn't see the appeal but then, Hannibal did not want that to be Will's decision.  
  
Will was haunted as he whispered, "Jack isn't offering forgiveness. He wants justice. He wants to see you; see who you are. See what I've become. He wants the truth."   


"To the truth, then." Finality laced with disappointment. "And all its consequences." Hannibal swallowed the last of his wine, sighed, and sat still.

 

Will shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'll help with the plates."

 

"Very well," Hannibal said. He left the task of gathering up the plates, glasses and cutlery to Will and worked on moving all of the leftover food. It was foolish to divvy up the remainders, slot them into containers and stack them in the fridge. Jack would be arriving for dinner the following evening and there were not enough meals between then and now to eat everything left in his fridge. But Hannibal went through the motions while listening to the static of water while Will washed the dishes.

 

Imagining this as the start of something new, rather than the beginning of the end.

 

Once everything had been cleaned and set away, they looked at each other. Hannibal did not offer another glass of wine. Will didn't ask. After a moment heavy with expectation came and passed, they moved in step towards the front door. Will let Hannibal help him into his jacket and smooth it down over his shoulders. He only shivered when Hannibal's thumb drew circles on the knob where back and neck connected.

 

"Goodnight," Will whispered without turning around.

 

Hannibal breathed in deep, grateful at least that Freddie Lounds' scent had faded and only Will remained. "Goodbye."

 

Will's hand was on the handle of the front door but he made it no further. He turned and bit his lip. "I fed my dogs before I came. I want..." Words caught in Will's throat. Hannibal said nothing to ease the man's discomfort. He saw the blush filling Will's cheeks. The English language was failing Will, so instead he chose action.

 

Hannibal stumbled three full steps backwards in the hallway before he managed to steady both his weight and Will's. It was only when he was certain that neither of them would fall after Will's lunge forward that Hannibal's attention shifted to the desperate press of lips against his own. Will's fingers clutched at Hannibal's biceps too tightly until Hannibal knew the muscles would ache from the abuse. It was not enough to distract him from the sharp angle of Will's body arching against all of Hannibal, clinging to him and locking their lips so harshly together they would both be bruised.

 

Hannibal walked them both backwards to the front door, but only to shove Will wholly against it and pin him with the entire length of his body. One of his hands squeezed Will's hip until Will whined with pain. Will only held them closer together. Hannibal's other hand wove into Will's soft hair, fingers twining around traitorous curls. In the next instant he yanked back and Will yielded, his knees bending just enough to bring his mouth a few inches below Hannibal's own, his throat bared.

 

Driven by both anger and adoration, Hannibal devoured Will's mouth. He nipped at the top lip and then sucked the fuller bottom lip that quivered under his attention. It was simple to seal their lips and delve his tongue in next, welcomed passionately with another heady moan from Will. Hands raced across his body, wrinkling fabric in their greediness. Will only pulled them tighter together as their lips danced, his hips rocking against Hannibal's own.

 

Their breathing was harsh in the silent entryway, Hannibal's blood pounding in his ears. He continued to kiss Will even when his lungs screamed for air, his awareness swimming from both oxygen deprivation and the satisfaction of possessing what was rightfully his. It felt like they would both catch fire and burn to ash as one. If this was his end, he would welcome it. When the edges of his vision blurred he finally surrendered and broke the kiss, both of them protesting with honest, wanton noises.

 

"What's that look for?" Will's arms were around Hannibal's shoulders, their chests rising and falling frantically as they fought for air. Will studied Hannibal's face more closely as his eyes focused. "You look like you don't know... who you are anymore."

 

"Perhaps I don't," Hannibal confessed. "I have never kissed anyone like that before."

 

"I want you to take me..." Will murmured, expression serious, face flushed with blood. "In your bed. Tonight."

 

"You know where it is." He nudged Will towards the stairs and sent him a look when Will began to protest. "I will follow once the lights have been extinguished."

 

Will climbed the stairs then. Hannibal watched until Will was out of sight and then moved around the main floor of his house. He ensured every lock was bolted, every light turned off, and then moved up the stairs with false calm. The only light on in the house was the one on Hannibal's bedside table. It cast a beautiful golden glow across the bare skin of Will's body, traversing the valleys and ridges of his being.

 

Hannibal did not look away once as he removed every article of clothing from his body. Will watched him, a little self-conscious but growing bolder the longer Hannibal stared with hunger and desire. Hannibal knelt above Will's naked body on the bed when they were both bare, their eyes aligning. Hannibal could get lost in those eyes, he was certain.

 

The next kiss was calmer but no less passionate. Hannibal sealed their lips together and leaned his whole being into the kiss, meeting Will's tongue and then teasing the roof of his mouth. Only when Will's lips were swollen and red from kisses did Hannibal turn his attention elsewhere. He kissed every inch of Will bared to him, letting each brush of contact linger. Careful kisses to his forehead, closed eyelids, cheeks, jaw and the bridge of his nose. Then he dipped lower, sucking lightly at Will's neck behind his ear and down lower.

 

Barely above a murmur he spoke the name of each muscle and bone he kissed, mapping every molecule that made Will, his beloved. Will seemed pleased by the words and the attention. His hands alternated between combing the gel from Hannibal's hair and tracing designs on Hannibal's back above the healed lines that were visible only in their memories now.

 

By the time Hannibal reached Will's nipples and dragged his tongue roughly against each one in turn, Will's breathing was audible. When his tongue and teeth approached the juncture of Will's iliac crest and began to kiss along Will's left hip, Hannibal could feel the hard ridge of Will's cock nudging against his chest as Will bucked up. Hannibal ignored the silent plea except for one drawn-out lick from root to tip that had Will cursing and squirming on the sheets.

 

After that Hannibal continued on. He nipped and licked Will's inner thighs. He lifted up one of Will's legs to rest on his shoulder long enough to kiss behind his knee and then repeated the action on the opposite side. Hannibal traced his nails down the solid structure of Will's tibia bones and kissed the top of his feet.

 

Precome had pooled on Will's belly from the ministrations. Hannibal lapped it up and then rose to the head of the bed again. He pushed his tongue back into Will's mouth so that Will could taste the sweetness of his own body and hopefully understand some of his draw to Hannibal. Will kissed him back and held him closer until they were both dizzy again. Then he whispered against Hannibal's lips, "I want you to make me yours."

 

Hannibal leaned back only enough to see Will's eyes fully. Their legs remained twined, fingers clutching close what was dear to them. "Will Graham. Remarkable, lovely Will," he said with reverence as a hand cupped Will's face. "You have always been mine."

 

A shiver coursed through Will's body from his head to his toes, deliciously obvious against Hannibal's skin. "Yes," Will breathed into Hannibal's mouth, eyes clenched closed as though in pain. "Yes, yes." Hannibal closed his own eyes and kissed Will the way he deserved, soft and sweet and loved. He felt wetness against his hand and smelled the tears but knew Will did not want him to stop for an instant, and so he didn't. Hannibal waited until Will was ready for space to be between them again, when Will broke the kiss to whisper, " _Please_."

 

Hannibal collected lube and a condom from his bedside table, but when Will saw the condom he shook his head. In silent agreement, Hannibal returned it to the drawer before coating his fingers in lube. He enjoyed overlooking the little suck and bite marks he had left across Will's body almost as much as he enjoyed spreading Will's trembling legs with his own body and seeking entry with his fingers.

 

He was careful to push with only one finger first, and Will did not stop Hannibal or push him away this time. Now there seemed to be nothing that Will wanted to hide from Hannibal, instead wanting to put everything he was feeling on display. The ache in Hannibal's heart from Will's internal turmoil only made Will's open and honest desire and arousal more wonderful to behold.

 

Will took one finger easily and quickly rolled his hips down, seeking more. Hannibal slid another finger inside inch by inch, feeling the stretch of Will's body. He stroked Will's length lightly while his fingers worked him open, just enough to keep the flush painted across Will's skin as he arched and panted. More than once Will told Hannibal to hurry up but the words were shaky and Hannibal ignored them. He took his time working three fingers into Will and then grabbed more lube.

 

Will looked down expectantly and gasped when Hannibal pressed back in with fingers, this time adding a fourth. He wanted to push Will to the limit, to the breaking point. Hannibal wanted Will to feel the use of his hole when he woke up in the morning, put on his clothes, took the dogs for a walk, gave a lecture, sat down for dinner. Hannibal would not allow Will to forget him for an instant.

 

He watched his four fingers pushing into Will, studied the stretch of his hole around the intrusion. Then at last he withdrew and coated his own cock with a few tight strokes. As he lined himself up with Will's entrance, ready to push in, Will's hands reached up and stilled him. His animalistic growl was hard to contain as it rumbled in the back of his throat. "Hannibal, I—" Will licked his dry lips. "Can I ride you?"

 

Hannibal was not expecting the request, but his cock twitched in his hand at the idea. He nodded and rolled onto his back. He saw that Will's legs were unsteady as he moved to straddle Hannibal's body, and Hannibal supported him with strong hands on his hips. Will gripped Hannibal's cock to line himself up and Hannibal hissed at the contact. The noise spilling from his lips only grew louder when Will slowly sat himself down until Hannibal's scrotum rested against Will's ass.

 

"Fuck, hang on," Will's voice was tight as he panted, adjusting slowly.

 

Hannibal ran the palms of his hands from Will's knees up his thighs, along the curve of his hips and waist, and back down to pump Will slowly. Will groaned and rocked into the friction weakly, his fluttering heartbeat causing his ass to squeeze around Hannibal in turn. "Will?"

 

Will's eyes opened and he smiled fondly. "I'm okay," he promised. "I..." Will's hands travelled upward from Hannibal's stomach until his fingers brushed teasingly through Hannibal's chest hair. "I've never been better," he added with a weak chuckle.

 

Tears like diamonds clung to Will's lashes but before Hannibal could reach up with his clean hand, Will swept them away quickly with the back of his hand. He still didn't understand that Hannibal saw the beauty in every part of Will's existence. The fact that Will was so emotional about their union on the cusp of the end, and was willing to share that with Hannibal rather than hide it away and pretend he was unfazed, was priceless to Hannibal. It made him willing to do what he had promised Will, despite the hurt and betrayal, and set aside his mask of indifference as well during their joining.

 

His clean fingers skimmed Will's damp cheeks. "My beloved Will."

 

Will's eyes widened in shock. It would have been comical if Hannibal's throbbing cock wasn't sheathed in Will's tight heat. He had broken a dam and every emotion spilled across Will's face. It was as Will leaned forward for another kiss that fondness warmed his eyes, and they both smiled into the kiss.

 

Hannibal ran his hands along Will's strong back and as they continued to kiss, Will began to rock his body against Hannibal's own. It didn't take long for sweat to build up on their skin, making the glide smooth as Will thrust himself down on Hannibal's cock and fucked his own length against Hannibal's stomach in even strokes. Hannibal's hands returned to Will's hips to add force to their movements, bucking his hips up to push in deeper on each thrust.

 

As he felt the inevitable coil of heat in his belly, Hannibal wound his arms around Will and rolled them over. The air was knocked from Will's lungs as he was shoved back against the mattress, a blissful daze on his face. Hannibal left fingertip bruises on Will's skin where he pinned Will down, thrusting into his body rough and deep. If this was to be their last time together, it would be one that echoed through their souls.

 

Will was scattered, his fingers clawing the sheets free of the mattress as he moved against Hannibal's weight and warmth. In this position it was easy to find Will's prostate and grind against it with the head of his cock. Hannibal pressed his lips over Will's own and drank his whines and moans, consuming everything Will would give.

 

Will's orgasm crashed over them both suddenly and without warning, like a roiling thundercloud. Will cried out weakly as his back bowed, his entire body tensing, freezing, and releasing with a shudder. Hannibal felt the spill of Will's come between their bodies and ground against Will's ass with shallow thrusts. Each contraction of Will's body working through his release squeezed Hannibal tighter, milking him of his essence, and all Hannibal had to do was give into it to feel his seed filling his partner's body.

 

They continued to rock weakly as one being until they shook with exhaustion and Hannibal was forced to withdraw. All of his determination was required to move off the bed and soak a cloth under warm water in the adjoining bathroom. He wiped himself clean and then gently smoothed the cloth across Will's stained skin.

 

When he was finished, Will's hands found him and lured Hannibal closer. Hannibal was content to indulge the silent request and pulled what remained of the bed sheets around their bodies. He lay on his back and breathed deeply as Will moulded himself to Hannibal's side. Will curled one arm around Hannibal's middle and rested his head on Hannibal's chest, listening to the thrum of his heartbeat.

 

As he continued to breathe deeply, Hannibal came to realize that he could not smell Will. Not in the way he had come to memorize the man's unique scent. Instead it was some blend of Will and Hannibal, and Hannibal enjoyed thinking that it was proof of their union. That it could never be fully reversed despite any severance from within or beyond their companionship of two.

 

"Hannibal..."

 

"This moment is ours, Will," Hannibal said. "Speak your mind."

 

"Where are we going to go... when we leave?"

 

Though Hannibal said nothing, he knew the skip of his heart betrayed him as it drummed against Will's ear. This was the first time Will had asked about anything beyond the planned moment of confrontation between Hannibal, Will and Jack. The first time Will had shown any inkling of consideration or, dare Hannibal hope, anticipation for what awaited them. Perhaps Will's insistence upon the confrontation was merely his sense of justice and not a confirmation that Will did not want Hannibal alive at the end of it.

 

Hannibal kissed the rumpled curls of Will's hair and breathed them both in. "I have a cottage in Croatia, on the coast of the Adriatic Sea. There is no extradition treaty between Croatia and the United States; no one will be able to touch us there."

 

"Croatia..." Will considered the answer with obvious intrigue.

 

"Though I know of many forests and streams near the cottage, possibly you would also be interested in testing your skills with ocean fishing." Hannibal wrapped an arm around Will's shoulders to hold him closer and trailed his fingers up and down Will's arm with gentle fondness. He would give Will the world, if only Will would let him.

 

"I would like that," Will confessed before they both slipped into a shared dream of sandy shores, sun-warmed waters, laced fingers and the freedom of endless time to indulge in whatever life they chose together.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The chapter many of you have been waiting for :)

When Hannibal woke up he was alone in bed, and a quick sweep of the house confirmed his fears. Will had fled the requirement of saying goodbye. Despite the fact that he knew how painful the goodbye would have been, Hannibal felt cheated. His mate had abandoned him to face exposure and death alone. Hannibal had deserved a farewell, at least.

 

Instead Will had made the choice to not choose. He would sit on the sidelines, take no part in the fray, and then side with whoever was left standing at the end of it. It was smart, survival-wise. But that acknowledgement did not stop poison from burning through Hannibal's veins as he forced himself through his day's preparation. He had never expected himself to be foolish enough to fall in love with a coward. How had he read Will so wrong?

 

After a quiet breakfast, Hannibal collected Abigail from the small forest cabin he had provided for her. He explained what she needed to know about the evening ahead – that Jack and possibly also Alana would be coming to kill him. Hannibal was uncertain of Alana but judging by her sudden distance, Hannibal suspected Will had informed her of the situation. It was better to prepare. Abigail would play her part.

 

Hannibal told her that now was finally the time and there would be no more need for waiting and hiding away. "I miss Will," she said as she climbed into the car, excitement on her face.

 

Hannibal smiled and petted her hair for a moment. "He misses you too."

 

The afternoon passed quickly, the sun slipping away through the sky. He had already shipped any items he wished to keep with him in Croatia, including some clothes, books, and other trinkets of value. To avoid the risk of airport security in case he was detained, Hannibal had already booked a private jet with a pilot who was paid enough to keep quiet and not ask unnecessary questions.

 

Everything was already in place, leaving nothing for Hannibal to do to distract himself from his thoughts. He found himself reading in his armchair in the study. The fabric of the chair no longer held Will's scent. Hannibal told himself to get accustomed to not smelling his partner anymore. He couldn't help wondering what Will was doing now. Was he pacing or standing still, watching the hours trickle by? Maybe he was out walking the dogs; nature calmed Will thoroughly.

 

Hannibal made Abigail an early dinner and then sent her upstairs to wait after having her repeat his orders twice to ensure she was prepared. Then he packed any last-minute items in a bag, set it in his car's trunk, and returned to the kitchen. Jack was not due until 8:00pm and it was only a little after six now, but the vegetables and meat would take a while to roast in the oven and simmer.

 

He cooked alone, fending off any thoughts that nettled him. It was easier to not think at all, to lose himself in the purposeful, practiced movements of preparing a meal. Hannibal could almost call himself comfortable until the ringing of his phone jarred him. He paused to pluck the phone from the far counter and spoke as he moved back to his kitchen island. "Hello?"

 

Five full seconds of silence and then, "They know." Will's voice.

 

If Hannibal had been expecting anything, it wouldn't have been that. Will's motivations for calling Hannibal eluded him, and the sweeping wave of remembered betrayal made it harder to concentrate long enough to focus on the _why_ s. There was a chance that Will had been overcome by a swell of guilt, but Hannibal couldn't care. It was important now to turn his emotions off, resituate his practiced mask, end this and move on.

 

With nothing more he wished to say to Will, Hannibal hung up.

 

Will's warning preceded Jack's arrival by twelve minutes; enough time for Hannibal to pull on his coat, get in his car and disappear if he chose that path. Instead Jack, after letting himself in, walked in on Hannibal slicing the dinner's meat. "Hello Jack," Hannibal said pleasantly. He was calm now, the turbulence of his emotions shut out. Was this the ending Will wanted? So be it. "You're early."

 

"I couldn't wait to get here," Jack said genuinely.

Hannibal turned the block of knifes to face Jack. _Choose your weapon_. "Would you care to sous-chef?"  


Jack didn't acknowledge the knives with anything more than his eyes. "I want to thank you for your friendship, Hannibal." A goodbye, in more words.

 

Hannibal squared his shoulders, considered Jack, and gave a tiny nod. They would not pretend any longer. Jack could see Hannibal now for everything he was, just as Will had. No fear showed on their faces – Jack's or Will's – but Hannibal knew now that it was a practiced mask to hide their disgust of Hannibal's true nature. He was not the only one who had perfected an act. "The most beautiful quality of a true friendship is to understand them. And be understood with absolute clarity." He set his knife down in easy grabbing distance. _Turn, ten paces, about face_.

 

"Then this is the clearest moment of our friendship," Jack stated slowly. His mask slid just an inch, enough for Hannibal to see disbelief, sad acceptance, and hatred.

 

Jack reached for his gun on his hip but Hannibal was faster. With a precise throw his knife embedded in Jack's palm, stilling his hand and capturing his focus. Hannibal launched himself over the kitchen island and met Jack's first punch. Both of them used whatever they had access to: fists, elbows, items on the counters, the physical weight of their bodies. Jack was a trained professional. Not the same sort of professional as Hannibal but almost as skilled. Hannibal had been prepared though, was ready to match Jack blow for blow.

 

He expected Jack to tire, for his stamina to fail him. That Hannibal had underestimated. He realized in an instant as Jack got a towel around his neck that it would be easier to lull Jack out of fighting. Jack dropped Hannibal to the floor as his body went limp, and Hannibal could feel Jack's laboured breathing against his neck when Jack's forehead brushed his hair. Another friend who had cared only up until the truth about Hannibal was revealed.

 

The pain that thought caused drove Hannibal's hand to grip the glass and cut into his friend's neck. Jack released him and backed into the pantry, slamming the door and locking it behind him. Hannibal's prey was cornered and wounded. Blood perfumed the air. Hannibal took two blades in hand and rammed his shoulder against the door, feral now and eager to bring this confrontation to an end.

 

The sensation of his shoulder hitting the solid wood of the pantry door only spurred him on. Hannibal was so focused that he missed the approach of scared footfalls. It took Alana yelling his name for Hannibal to pause, turn, and take in her gun. "Where's Jack?" she whispered.

 

"In the pantry," Hannibal whispered back. Bloodlust turned him playful. "I was hoping you and I wouldn't have to say goodbye. Nothing seen nor said. You may have found that rude." He knew the image he presented, covered in his own blood and Jack's with blades gripped in a way that implied expertise. He saw the fear he invoked in Alana as he stepped closer.

 

"Stop!" Hannibal stopped, though he did not have to. Another friend who cared for the mask, not the man beneath. "I was so blind."

 

Her own self-disgust was just another insult on Hannibal's shoulders. He licked the blood from his lips and swallowed. "In your defence, I worked very hard to blind you." The confrontation had been planned for him, Will, and Jack. Alana had been kept close to strengthen Hannibal's mask, but just because her usefulness had run out didn't mean she had to die. "You can stay blind," he offered. "You can hide from this. Walk away, I'll make no plans to call on you.  
But if you stay, I will kill you." That was a promise. "Be blind, Alana. Don't be brave."

 

The gun clicked with malice intent but could not carry through. Tears came to Alana's eyes. "I took your bullets," Hannibal said unnecessarily to rub salt in the wound. To prove that he had been miles ahead of her for longer than she could comprehend. Contempt soured his face as she clicked the trigger again and again, every fibre of her being wishing for bullets to pierce Hannibal's flesh.

 

He set aside the blades when Alana stumbled up the stairs. She was familiar with the layout of his house but could not know that Hannibal was herding her. Three bullets splintered the door she hid behind but Hannibal merely stood aside, listened to whispered words and then... the delicate chime of shattered glass, punctuated by a terrified scream that ended abruptly.

 

Hannibal gathered Abigail and praised her as they took the stairs together. Will would be arriving shortly to assess the wreckage, to determine how the match had played out. Would Will study Hannibal's house the way he viewed a crime scene, or would the blood of his friends and lover muddle his brain? As he heard a car door close out on the street, Hannibal stood Abigail in the kitchen and slipped into the shadows.

 

On silent feet Will entered the kitchen, gun raised. Hannibal could see that Will was soaked through, sans coat, and that his face was pale. He watched as Will lowered the gun at the sight of Abigail, wonderment crossing his face. "Abigail?" he murmured, scared to believe.

 

Abigail was trembling as she sniffled. Alana's death weighed heavy on her shoulders but she would not have to bear the guilt for much longer. "I didn't know what else to do, so I just did what he told me."

 

"Where is he?" Will asked. Abigail's gaze gave him away. Will had not even set his eyes on Hannibal before any control over his emotions failed. Will's voice broke as tears mingled with rain. "You were supposed to leave."

 

For many years Hannibal had pondered the existence of his heart, if something had gone wrong in his development that stagnated its growth and power in his body. Now he knew for certain that his heart existed because it was shattering, splintered pieces cutting his insides with each pulse of his blood through veins. Hannibal told himself to ignore the echoing heartbreak in Will's words. He had already trusted Will and been let down too many times.

 

"We couldn't leave without you," Hannibal said quietly. To leave Will behind without a resolution would have been unacceptable.

 

Will faced him fully. Will did not raise his gun against him. Hannibal could no longer distinguish between Will's tears and the rain dripping from his hair except for their scent, subdued by the blood in the room. Hannibal took a deep breath in, out, told himself Will was not his to have. His hand rose anyway, cupping Will's strong jaw and rubbing a circle in the dip behind Will's temple. How he loved this man for everything that he was, and wasn't; Hannibal's perfect pair.

 

The knife slid into Will's gut too easily. Something should've stayed Hannibal's hand, but it didn't. Hannibal avoided all major arteries and organs but the pain would still be devastating. Vocal agony spilled from Will's parted lips as the blade sank in, a grunt of expelled air following the knife's removal.

 

Hannibal cradled the back of Will's head with a hand. Their eyes never parted. Will's body began to give way and he gripped Hannibal's shoulder, shook him urgently. Hannibal was there, sweeping Will into an embrace and supporting his trembling weight. Will's chin rested on Hannibal's shoulder, choked gasps escaping him on each breath. Hannibal only held him tighter, both arms holding Will close.

 

He rocked Will from side to side and brushed his hair with a gentle hand, soothing him through the initial shock of pain. Although it had been Hannibal to wound him, Will's hands clutched at his back desperately, pulling them closer still. For a frozen moment of time Hannibal could pretend that everything was alright.

 

"Time did reverse," the thought conjured the words to his lips, spoken in Will's ear. "The teacup that I shattered did come together." Will choked down vomit spurred by his pain. Hannibal dug his fingers deeper in Will's hair, wishing for a different moment. "A place was made for Abigail in your world. Do you understand?" Will was shivering now with shock, each breath rapid and shallow as his skin turned clammy.

 

Will shook his head jerkily in answer and leaned closer until his cheek was against Hannibal's own. Even now, Hannibal could not withhold his desire to comfort Will. "The place was made for all of us, together. I wanted to surprise you," he said with disappointment. It had all gone wrong. Hannibal pulled Will back enough for their eyes to meet, and held Will at a distance when the other man leaned in. "And you..." He considered Will's lips and then brushed away the temptation. "You wanted to surprise me."

 

Between the pain and blood loss, Will's knees buckled. Hannibal let Will slip from his fingers, and watched as Will collapsed to the floor, clutching a hand to his abdomen. "I let you know me. See me." Hannibal's voice was rough with emotion but there was no value in hiding himself now. "I gave you a rare gift." Will knew him more intimately than any other on the earth, and Hannibal wanted to know how badly Will had abused that knowledge to wound him. "But you didn't want it."

 

Will tried to say something but the words were drowned out by each groan of pain he swallowed. "You would deny me my life," Hannibal accused, standing tall above his struck-down enemy.

 

"N-no, no!" Will shook his head violently. His skin was growing sickly and pallor in the dim lighting. "Not your life, no."

 

"My freedom then, you would take that from me," Hannibal pressed. Will's eyes were clenched closed, from both pain and a childish urge to hide from what he did not want to confront. Hannibal dug deeper into Will's guilt. "Confine me to a prison cell." He glanced over at Abigail, who looked so young as she watched their exchange. When he turned back to Will, Hannibal wondered what Will was thinking in that moment. What did he believe was Hannibal's next move? Did Will believe Hannibal would leave them all to recover and bond over their hatred of him? "Did you believe you could change me, the way I've changed you?"

 

Between weak gasps Will raised his eyes and said with conviction, "I already did."

 

Hannibal was left speechless for more than a breath. His focus had been on moulding Will, leading him with a steady hand towards everything he had the potential to be. But along the way, Will's fingers had laced with Hannibal's and diverted their path. Not going backwards, but simply seeking out a new direction for them to explore and traverse together. Will _had_ changed Hannibal; would Hannibal have ever suggested running without claiming Jack as a sacrifice if he was the same man before Will Graham? Unlikely.

 

Hannibal pressed on. He had not chosen this; Will had. Hannibal was merely playing out his role to the bitter end. "Fate and circumstance have returned us to this moment when the teacup shatters." Will's lips were clenched together but Hannibal could see them twitch, Will holding back voiceless words. What was it; an apology? A declaration? Hannibal would not know. "I forgive you, Will," he said with all that remained of his heart, because deep down Will had taught Hannibal empathy, and Hannibal understood. "Will you forgive me?"

 

He didn't wait for a response because he knew he would not receive one. You needed to love to forgive, and though Will might understand, he had proven that all of the warm and fond emotions had been a ploy. Will had played the game and he had lost. Now he would pay the price.

 

Will knew before Hannibal had even looked away what his target would be, what he held most dear. "Don't, don't, no," he begged openly. Did he not realize that showing more love for Abigail than Hannibal only spurred him on?

 

Hannibal held out a hand. "Abigail, come to me."

 

Too young, too lost, too trusting. She came into his arms and Hannibal held her lightly against his chest. When she was in place Hannibal brought up the same knife that had wounded Will and held it against her throat. Will begged and sobbed, but his pleas fell on betrayed ears. Hannibal slit the flesh of Abigail's neck quickly, feeling hot blood rush over his fingers and taking sick pleasure when some of her blood branded Will's face.

 

Hannibal set her down on the ground as she gasped uselessly for air, her hand clasping at a wound that would not heal. Will's eyes tracked her but could not yet bring his body to move from the support of the wall. Hannibal knelt down in front of Will, knowing this would be the last time they spoke in this lifetime. In the end, all he could do was wish Will serenity. "You can make it all go away," his voice was hushed and soothing. "Put your head back. Close your eyes. Wade into the quiet of the stream."

 

He hovered there for a moment too long, praying for a reason to stay. Will wasn't looking away but he wasn't saying anything either, and Hannibal finally pulled away. He didn't make it more than an inch before Will's bloodied hand grabbed the back of Hannibal's neck and yanked him into a kiss that was far too much of every emotion to avoid being overwhelmed by it.

 

Too addicted, too in love, Hannibal kissed Will back deeply.

 

The blood between their lips tasted important.

 

Will pulled away enough to gasp more air into his lungs, but his hand did not leave Hannibal's neck to allow him a chance to run. " _You_ are my stream, you—" Will winced and clutched his other hand more tightly to his abdomen. "You _asshole_ ," he huffed. "You're not going anywhere without me."

 

"You can drop the facade," Hannibal yearned for it to be over. "There is no one left to play the fool."

 

"It started as a plan," Will admitted. He rolled his head from side to side, insistent in his denial. "But I fell in love with you." Hannibal said nothing; he knew not what to say. Will finally pushed past him to hold a hand to Abigail's neck, even though the blood was already slowing. " _Abigail_ ," Will whispered weakly, trying and failing to call her back from what was hopefully a less troubled existence. Will cried openly as Abigail dragged in her last sad breaths, and he cradled her close. "I'm sorry," Will whispered. "I'm sorry."

 

There was no response and Hannibal knew when Abigail was gone. There was a shift in the air and the room felt emptier. Hannibal remained kneeling facing the wall, a few stray tears cutting lines through the blood on his face each time he blinked. He had robbed himself of a child, of another chance to protect someone the way he could not protect Mischa. All to hurt a man who still claimed love for him. Hannibal wanted to turn and mourn Abigail, hold her small form close, but he did not deserve the honour of looking upon her now.

 

"Will..." he murmured. Hannibal's eyes swept only far enough to the side to note the blood slowly pooling below Will's body. "You cannot speak to me of love after all I have done." Jack bleeding out in the pantry. Alana dead or dying on the sidewalk. Abigail cut down. Will's unborn cut out.

 

"Stop—" Will groaned loudly as he dragged himself weakly back against the wall for support. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Will snarled angrily. "You have taken _everything_ from me. You will not take yourself away as well. I won't _let you_." His eyes cast over Abigail again and then took in the kitchen. Will's eyes were beginning to fog. "Where's... Where's Jack?"

 

"Pantry. Alive."

 

"Help me up."

 

"Will—"

 

" _Help me up_." With professional efficiency Hannibal lifted Will to his feet and wrapped an arm around Will to steady him. Will rested against the wall. "Clean towel," he told Hannibal and then dragged himself along the wall to the pantry door, practically doubled over, knees weak. Focus only on saving a life. Will knocked on the door. "Jack, it's Will."

 

He got the door open as Hannibal came behind him, handing over a towel. Jack flinched at the sight of him but Will raised the hand with the white towel. _Surrender_. _Let this end_. "The EMTs are coming. Hold out," Will said and tossed Jack the towel to hold tight against his neck. He was unable to leave the support of the doorframe and continued to sink towards the ground the longer he remained standing. Jack's eyes remained fixated on Hannibal, who stood behind Will. Out of place. "I was his man, Jack," Will proclaimed. "I'm sorry. I'm going with him."

 

Jack didn't call after them, whether due to shock, hatred, or blood loss. Hannibal offered an arm and Will leaned on him heavily to stumble away. As they walked as quickly as Will could manage across the kitchen, Hannibal couldn't help but look. He saw that Will had brushed Abigail's eyes closed. Hannibal was grateful to Will for the small comfort it gave him. He could almost imagine her calm and restful in sleep.

 

Will ordered Hannibal to grab one of his coats, a warm one. Hannibal held it out to Will in offering but Will did not put it on after taking it. He clutched painfully tight to Hannibal's arm, breathing shallow, body convulsing weakly with each step. Alana was there in a crumpled heap on Hannibal's front step, eyes on the tearful sky.

 

Hannibal provided the support as Will leaned down enough to drape the coat over her torso and thighs. "Will, I'm s-sorry," Alana was shivering violently, jostling every broken bone in her body.

 

Will held her hand when she reached up and squeezed before letting go. He would not allow his anger and hurt from her actions to turn his pain destructive. "I'm sorry too," Will said. He was also trembling now as cold rain pelted him. "He's my o-other half," Will whispered, "I l-love him."

 

Alana was crying but she nodded. "I k-knew, d-deep down."

 

"Ambulances are c-coming. You'll be okay," he reassured her and then looked to Hannibal. Will opened his mouth to speak but nothing escaped his lips other than a pained groan as his body collapsed.

 

"Will!" Hannibal felt his heart seize as he caught Will's dead weight in his arms. He managed to catch Will and stop him from hitting the concrete fully, but Will still sobbed at the jerk to his body from being suddenly stopped mid-fall.

 

As Hannibal carefully gathered Will up in his arms, he saw Alana watching them closely. Her lips were a thin line as she glared at him. "You need to take c-care of him more than you h-have. He d-deserves better."

 

Hannibal nodded solemnly. "He does, and I will," he vowed seriously.

 

Maybe she would've nodded, but with her broken body already causing immeasurable pain, Alana simply watched him while she lay as still as the dead. She was strong; she would survive.

 

Hannibal was silent as he gently got Will into the passenger seat of his car and rushed to the driver's seat. He could hear sirens in the distance as the engine came to life. Hannibal drove only long enough to be away from the immediate search radius of the emergency responders and parked on a back street. He couldn't take Will anywhere without receiving questions, and he didn't trust Will in anyone else's hands.

 

He parked the car on the grass beside the deserted country road and got out, grabbing his extensive first-aid kit from under the back seat. Carefully Hannibal got Will lying down across the front two seats and hiked his shirt up to reveal the stab wound, careful to avoid fabric stuck to drying blood. It was about one inch in width and the cut was clean from surgical-skilled hands, but Hannibal knew the blade had sunk in a little over two inches. Hannibal had noted every drop of Will's blood from the wound and knew Will would not need a blood transfusion, but infection was likely, as was risk of further injury if Will moved too much.

 

Hannibal put pressure on the wound with a clean cloth. Time seemed to speed by with the rush of his heartbeat in his ears. Once the bleeding slowed, Hannibal cleaned the wound and then grabbed a sterilized needle. He had no anaesthetic to ease the pain and while Hannibal stitched the wound Will grunted but otherwise remained silent. Will's silence and shallow breathing frightened Hannibal.

 

"Stay with me, Will. Stay with me." Will's eyelashes fluttered tiredly. "You said I could not go anywhere without you," he insisted. "Consider that mutual." Will still didn't respond. The corners of Hannibal's eyes stung but he ignored it as he finished his precise stitching and bandaged Will thoroughly.

 

Although it wasn't ideal, Hannibal moved Will back up into a seated position when he was done, rather than risk further damage moving him into the back seats. He got the door closed and returned to the driver's seat, turning up the heat to fight Will's chill. Hannibal knew his body was cold as well, but he couldn't feel it. "Hanni... Hannibal?" Will murmured, eyes barely open as he leaned against the window.

 

"I'm here, Will," Hannibal rested a hand on Will's leg. He still had so many questions, not understanding all of Will's behaviour and unable to tease out what had been real and what was fake. Nor did he know what consequences he would face for his actions this evening. For now none of that mattered. Will had told Hannibal that he loved him, for no benefit except to make Hannibal feel wanted. They could talk later; right now Hannibal needed to protect their chance at a future together.

 

"Croatia?" Will whispered hesitantly.

 

Hannibal smiled softly and brushed Will's wet hair from his face. "Yes, Croatia. Rest; we will be taking a private flight. You'll be okay." The words felt more like a plea as they got stuck in his throat.

 

"We will," he agreed and then slid away into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

They had been in the air for a few hours, and still had many hours more to go, especially since they had a brief stop chartered in London to refuel. The paid pilot had brought Hannibal's luggage onto the plane before taking the cockpit while Hannibal had carried Will's limp form on board. Hannibal paid the pilot no attention except to confirm no suspicious activity or ill intention.

 

In the chaos of the evening all of Will's belongings had been left behind. Hannibal couldn't help wondering if there were cherished items Will would mourn losing; tokens to remember his lost family, perhaps. At the same time Hannibal knew it didn't matter, because they would not have a hope in returning to collect anything. Hannibal would ask all the same when Will was conscious; there might be a resource or two he could call upon in the States who could raid Will's house before the FBI arrived and ship the desired items to a secure location in Croatia where Hannibal could pick them up.

 

He also thought about Will's herd of dogs, briefly. Will had known tonight was the night when everything about their former lives would implode – regardless of who won the battle – so Will must've prepared. Previously Hannibal would have suspected that Will had planned to return to his dogs that evening, ready for Jack to be the victor and Hannibal to either be dead or in chains. But Will's declarations refused to leave his thoughts.

 

_I fell in love with you._

_I was his man... I'm going with him._

_He's my other half._

 

Hannibal would have to ask about the dogs as well. Not questions Hannibal would normally consider asking someone, despite his tendency to be polite so that society would not pay him too close attention. Hannibal's eyes sought Will again, who was sleeping fitfully on the sole couch in the private plane. Once the plane had risen into the air, Hannibal had efficiently removed Will's soaked clothes and redressed him in the loosest pair of pants and shirt Hannibal could find in his own suitcase at hand.

 

Looking upon Will drew him in like reeled-in fishing twine. _Hook, line, sinker_. Hannibal sat on the edge of the couch and overlooked his partner, brushing away now-dried curls. He remembered Will declaring that he had changed Hannibal in return and Hannibal knew it was the truth. Hannibal was certainly not the man he was before Will Graham entered his circle of awareness. However, Hannibal still was not the man he wanted to be.

 

His eyes lingered on Will's sallow face and the quick rise-fall of his chest despite being asleep. Will had been hurt by Hannibal, both physically and emotionally with everything Hannibal had torn from Will's life to make room for himself to fit. Allowing selfish fear to tell him that he would be unwanted if Will had anyone else to turn to. _Fool_.

 

Worse, Hannibal was haunted by the memory of Will apologizing for and trying to reconcile Hannibal's destructive actions. Begging forgiveness or at least understanding from Jack and Alana for falling in love with the creature who acted too ruthlessly. Trying to tell Abigail in so few words before she faded that it wasn't her fault, that she hadn't brought the suffering or death she had been dealt because of her intrinsic self. That she had just gotten caught between two halves of a whole meeting violently before anything could settle.

 

Protecting the life of anyone he could save from Hannibal's poisonous influence, breathing hope into the shattered remains of those left in Hannibal's wake. This was not the life Hannibal wanted to offer Will. It was not the role he wanted Will to shoulder in their partnership. Hannibal would not deny his nature, but it was not only Will's time to evolve.

 

Hannibal had harnessed and controlled his urges in the past to survive in the untrusting world. He would change and adapt again, willingly, to stand in Will's radiant glow. It had been a mistake to undervalue the beauty of this side of Will's nature. He would not make the same mistake twice.

 

After his lips brushed Will's greedily, Hannibal hovered. He didn't want to leave Will's presence. And yet he knew it was important to let Will sleep and not disturb him. Hannibal begrudgingly tore himself away and left Will on the couch. It was warm in the plane's interior but Hannibal's protective concern had him grabbing a spare blanket from one of the cabinets and tucking it around Will's body.

 

He gave Will space at that point, but turned his seat to face the couch when he sat down. Hannibal considered grabbing his book from his luggage bag but he was unaccustomed to feeling so many emotions _so strongly_ and the simple act of closing his eyes was most pleasing. He estimated that he dozed for a few hours, but found himself jolting back to consciousness every time there was a rustle of blankets or a groan from Will. Hannibal would return to the couch, soothe Will with fingers carded through his hair, and only return to his chair once Will settled again.

 

By the time they landed in London, Hannibal felt dizzy with both exhaustion and hunger. He shook his tiredness off to oversee the refuelling of the plane, confirming no messages had been sent to the pilot about the fugitives he was harbouring – or that the pilot didn't care if he had. When they were back in the air Hannibal ate one of the sandwiches from the plane's mini fridge out of necessity, but with undeniable distaste.

 

Will woke long enough to croak a request for food and water and choke both down. Will said nothing while he ate and Hannibal didn't dare start a conversation in the fragile peace they were sharing. However, he stepped closer when Will held out a trembling hand, and he sighed in relief when Will twined their fingers together. Hannibal sat on the edge of the couch again and though silence reigned between them, Will allowed Hannibal's thumb to caress the back of his hand in calm repetition.

 

Will drifted away into unconsciousness again before long, but Hannibal refused to let go of Will's hand once he had offered it to Hannibal after everything. Hannibal moved to sit on the floor with his back against the side of the couch and Will's arm dangling over the edge. Hannibal continued to stroke Will's beautiful, strong fingers and knuckles with quiet reverence until he returned to more restful sleep.

 

#

 

On the first evening when they had arrived at the cottage, Hannibal had gotten Will deposited safely in the master bed and wrapped tightly in the blankets. Hannibal had paid the movers to not only bring all of the shipped belongings into the living room but also pick up a list of groceries he had specified and leave it in the fridge. He had made a pot of stew and left it to simmer on the stovetop and redressed Will's wound while the cottage filled with the smell of vegetables and spice.

 

Will had not even come close to breaking the surface of consciousness and Hannibal left him to sleep until the soup was ready. Hannibal gently propped Will against the pillows and woke him with soft-spoken words, and they ate their two bowls of soup side by side on the bed. Not an activity Hannibal would normally condone, but he was willing to make exceptions for Will in this state... Any state, really.

 

Hannibal asked a few questions and Will answered with blurry awareness, still more asleep than awake. When Will was full, Hannibal helped him to the bathroom and then to lie on his back again before moving the empty bowls to the kitchen. By the time they were washed and Hannibal returned, Will was gone from the world again. Hannibal made a few calls and checked the perimeter of the cottage, ensuring everything was secure and up to his standards.

 

That night, despite his tendency to rarely sleep more than four hours per twenty-four hour cycle, Hannibal lay down beside Will's sleeping form from midnight until the sun rose. He allowed his hand to rest on Will's arm but nothing more, unwilling to cause further damage in his greediness for closeness with the man who knew him – fully and without a foggy filter of denial – and continued to love him.

 

When the sun rose over the horizon, Hannibal got out of bed and stretched out his aching muscles. One day passed, and then two. By the early morning of their third day in the cottage, Hannibal had already put away all of his belongings he had had shipped over. It had been a slow process since he stopped to check on Will every quarter hour, but he was unbothered by time. There were no deadlines to meet.

 

Prior to their arrival, Hannibal had the cottage fully furnished and filled with the essentials for daily life – glasses, plates, pots, toiletries, blankets and so on. The initial batch of groceries would last a few more days. Hannibal hoped that by the time their supplies ran low, Will would be able to join him on a very slow-paced wander through the market that was a ten minute drive away. While there was civilization nearby, Hannibal had purchased this land for the expanse of emptiness on either side of the house and out into the stretching Adriatic Sea. No one would disturb them here.

 

Hannibal could buy more cooking utensils when they were settled. Perhaps Will would not be opposed to joining Hannibal in selecting the knife set. There was more than enough room for the books, journals and clothes Hannibal had brought along. More work would need to be done when Will's belongings arrived but that would likely be another week away. Hannibal knew Will would enjoy the task when he was healed, but for now Hannibal cut firewood for the living room fireplace, cooked and cleaned. It distracted him from his worrying.

 

His professional experience as a doctor told him that Will was doing as well as could be expected. Will's skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat from a fever his body was fighting, but Hannibal helped the fight against infection by keeping Will's wound clean and his body warm, fed and rested. The new, fragile portion of his soul that Will had awoken had Hannibal fretting. He spent needless time wiping Will's brow with a wet cloth, eyes always lingering, and hovering close in case Will called for him.

 

It was late in the morning on their third day in the cottage. Hannibal had run out of chores and refused to stray far, so he grabbed his in-progress book and read in bed. As the sun rose higher and Hannibal began to think about what to make for lunch, the blankets rustled. A warm hand snuck from beneath the covers and rested lightly on Hannibal's forearm, testing. Hannibal glanced down and when he did not see fear in Will's eyes, Hannibal entwined their fingers.

 

Will tried to sit up and gave a quiet gasp, eyes clenching closed with pain. "Careful," Hannibal chided. Mentally he assessed the likelihood of Will pulling the stitches and told himself to relax.

 

Will released a heavy breath and lay back against the pillows. His hand did not withdraw. "It really hurts."

 

"Yes, it will for a while," Hannibal said, aggrieved at the truth of the damage he had caused. "Forgive me." Bold in his request, shy in the delivery.

 

"I can't, Hannibal," Will murmured, looking up at him sadly. "Not after everything. Not yet. But I..." Will's fingers tightened around Hannibal's own. "I understand."

 

"I don't," Hannibal admitted. He refused to look away lest he miss an important clue on Will's face. "I believed it was all an act."

 

Will sighed and pulled their joined hands closer until his lips brushed softly against the back of Hannibal's hand. "Every moment when I was with you was real, even though I tried to fight it," Will confessed. "But that last night... what was supposed to be our last time together..." Will shook his head tiredly. "I realized I refused to go on without you in my life."

 

"You left the following morning."

 

"I was trying to deflect Jack," Will explained. "Delay him long enough so that I could take you up on your offer to steal away in the night as I should've done previously." Will nuzzled Hannibal's hand and then rested both of their hands on his chest. "It didn't work, and when I found out that he was throwing away the plan, I knew he would get there before me."

 

"You called me," Hannibal remembered.

 

"Even if I never saw you again, I warned you so you could get away and continue on." Will's eyes were downcast as he watched their combined hands rise and fall with his breath. "I went to your house to deal with any fallout in case Jack couldn't handle losing his prey so close to the capture. You were supposed to be gone. I had accepted that you would be gone."

 

"I would have come back for you."

 

"Would you?" Will looked up.

 

Hannibal wanted to say yes, but he wasn't certain. There was a chance that, years later when thoughts of _if_ s and _maybe_ s became more tangible than reality, Hannibal would've gone back. Tracked Will down, watched from afar, realized Will had found a new and more stable life without him, and force himself to walk away alone. Those thoughts ignited his previous doubt. "How could you love me after all I've done...? All I am?"

 

"Did you stop loving me, after you believed I had betrayed you?" _Not for a moment_ , Hannibal thought. He had been hurt, angry and lost, but those emotions had only been fuelled by the ache of his love for a man he assumed had strung him along like a toy. Hannibal's love had never diminished. His answer must've shown on his face because Will hummed. "It's that simple." And somehow, it was. They accepted and loved one another for who they were. What they shared would endure.

 

Hannibal leaned over and hesitated, lips hovering a mere inch above Will's. When Will lifted his head and matched his kiss, Hannibal's body trembled, such was the strength of his relief and bliss. The kiss was sweet, curious and honest. It didn't matter that a part of Hannibal desired to pair with Will intimately again, reconfirm their bond. That was not what this kiss was about. He never wanted it to end. He wanted to feel Will's lips and drink in his sighs for the rest of eternity. But he allowed Will to break the kiss and lie back against the pillows when his body began to shake.

 

"So tell me, Doctor," Will huffed, looking slightly annoyed at his own limitations. "Will I live?"

 

"Your chances appear positive," Hannibal reported contently, trailing after Will to place another light kiss to his temple.

 

Will's small smile was stolen by a yawn, which seemed to wake Will from his hazy bliss. Will's smile sliding away was painful to watch, like a bloom withering with a premature frost. "Any news about...?"

 

Hannibal felt uneasy at the return to such a treacherous topic, but he owed Will this. Enough money could buy information from anywhere in the world, and the price of checking hospital records on three people who meant a lot to only a small social circle did not have an expensive price tag. Hannibal had collected the information in preparation for this question. "Alana and Jack are both in the hospital. It will take a while until they recover, Alana especially, but they will both live and should heal with the proper care."

 

"And...?" The name caught at the back of Will's throat and fought when Will tried to swallow it down.

 

"Abigail died with you by her side, knowing you loved her," Hannibal said with certainty. It was the only comfort he could offer. He did not brush away Will's tears. Hannibal would not make it easier upon himself to hide from the pain he had inflicted. Will nodded and stayed silent. Each time he blinked, new tears cascaded down his cheeks and onto the rumpled pillowcase. He wanted to take away Will's pain but doing so would cheapen the value of Abigail's lost life, so Hannibal remained silent. Only when Will moved his head so that his forehead rested against Hannibal's thigh did Hannibal skim his fingers through Will's hair.

 

Eventually Will's tears ran dry, his body easily worn out. Hannibal thought Will might insist on going back to sleep, but instead he rubbed at his face to rouse himself further. His stomach growled in agreement to the movement. "I need to get up and move around for a while."

 

"Carefully," Hannibal insisted. Will paused long enough to give Hannibal time to get around to the side of the bed so he could help Will into a seated and then standing position. Will leaned on him heavily and Hannibal felt a silent swell of pride. He would not falter or fail Will again. At Will's request, Hannibal got him seated on the tiled seat in the shower where he could wash himself without standing. Will had allowed Hannibal to strip him but did not ask for further assistance, and Hannibal did not press the matter.

 

Hannibal busied himself with making sandwiches in the kitchen. By the time he was finished and knocked on the door with an armful of his own clothes to offer, Will called him in. Hannibal towelled Will off with clinical efficiency until the white towel came back spotty with blood, at which time Hannibal's touches softened and his lips stole one taste of water from the column of Will's neck. Will did not protest.

 

With Will's consent Hannibal redid the bandaging, redressed Will in his comfiest and most casual set of clothes, and seated him on the living room couch. He opened the double glass doors and the windows overlooking the sea, allowing the sun-warmed air to dance in the room, and then brought over the plate of sandwiches for them to split. They ate in silence while Will took in all the details of the living room, dining room and kitchen – all open concept but distinct spaces in their own right – that were within his immediate view.

 

"You call this a cottage?"

 

"What would you call it?" Hannibal asked in amusement.

 

Will chuckled under his breath. "Not a cottage."

 

Pleased by Will's rising mood, Hannibal smiled. Long after they had finished eating and Hannibal had washed and set away the plates, he still found Will on the couch, eyes looking beyond the bank of windows. "Would you like to go outside?"

 

"Yes," Will agreed and held out a hand.

 

"Would you be opposed to me carrying you?" Hannibal wondered.

 

Will sent him a ' _don't push your luck_ ' look. "Yes."

 

"Very well." Hannibal held Will's hand in his own, kissed the back of it, and then supported as much of Will's weight as he would allow. He had dressed Will in a sweater to combat any dampness seeped into the air and hidden by the sun's warmth. There was a small stonework deck with lawn chairs, a table and a grill, and then an open expanse of grass stretching down to the pebbly beach and the water. Hannibal had plans to convert some of the grass into a garden at some point. Will's eyes caught sight of the pier stretching hopefully out into the deeper waters.

  
"Do you have a boat?" Will was not successful keeping his eagerness from his voice at the question.

 

"We will," Hannibal assured him warmly. He held Will a little closer and turned his body slightly when a gust of wind lifted off the water, blocking Will from the worst of it.

 

Will seemed unbothered; he blossomed in nature. Despite Hannibal's concern over the uneven ground, he gave in to Will's plea for a short walk along the coastline. Will admitted exhaustion too late and was forced to give in and allow Hannibal to carry him back into the cottage bridal style. Will stayed in Hannibal's clothes and agreed to being returned to the bed for more rest.

 

Through sleep-hazy eyes Will regarded Hannibal fondly as Hannibal lay down beside him on the bed. "It's a beautiful house."

 

"It is yours."

 

"Ours," Will corrected with a huff, though he fell asleep with an upward curl to his lips.

 

#

 

Hannibal opened the bedroom door slowly, ensuring he didn't make any noise. It was mid-morning and Will was still deeply asleep. Will had been moving around the house more frequently over the last few days, watching Hannibal in the kitchen or reading in the living room, but Will continued to sleep long hours away as his body recovered. It was perhaps still a bit too early for Hannibal to wake him, but he had a surprise for Will and didn't feel like waiting.

 

Will's hand was draped over the edge of the bed and he groaned at the first nudge against his fingers. "Nn, Hannibal..." Will groaned, scrunching his eyes closed tighter in an attempt to refuse the process of waking up.

 

"Not quite," Hannibal chuckled from the doorframe.

 

Will's eyes flashed open, shot to Hannibal by the door, and then back to his hand. "Winston!" Will's beloved stray's ears perked up at his name and he licked Will's hand. Will allowed the licking and then scratched the dog's head behind the ears. Hannibal heard the happy _thump thump_ of the dog's tail wagging against the floor. Thankfully Will trained his dogs well and Winston did not attempt to get up onto the bed.

 

Hannibal could already see dog hair separating from Winston's body but he knew he couldn't mind the required cleanup awaiting him later when he saw Will grin. The smile lit up Will's face, making him young and vibrant and very kissable. Hannibal moved to sit on the opposite edge of the bed, not moving between the reunion. Will looked over at him. "Hannibal, how...?"

 

"When we first arrived you were very out of it but you answered my questions about the plan you had set in place for your dogs, and the belongings you wished you had been able to bring with you," Hannibal explained. His eyes remained fixed on Will's hand which continued to pet Winston even though he was looking at Hannibal. "With the right amount of money I got in contact with someone who could provide assistance State-side. Your belongings and the rest of your family will arrive over the next few weeks. It will take time as they must be shipped discreetly and to different locations for pickup to avoid anyone finding us here."

 

"Why would you...? I mean..." Will looked away nervously. "I know you care about me, but I always figured you just tolerated my dogs."

 

"' _Care_ ' is an inadequate word to capture the extent of what I feel for you," Hannibal chided warmly but then grew more serious. "I took so much from you. The least I could do was reunite you with your family."

 

The sunlight streaming in through the windows looking out upon the sea glimmered in the tears unshed from Will's eyes. Will attempted to sit up, winced and released a breath as he flopped back against the pillow. "You're going to move to this side of the bed, get on top of me, and kiss me until we're both gasping," Will demanded.

 

Hannibal had no reason to object. He pulled back the sheets to uncover Will in his loose pants and shirt and knelt above him. Hannibal did not lower any weight onto Will until Will tugged him down with a hand in his hair. Carefully Hannibal sat on Will's legs, held his body up with one hand on the mattress and used his other hand to affectionately cup Will's jaw.

 

They kissed long and deep. If they did not need to be so cautious of Will straining and tensing his abdominal muscles, this kiss would've been the spark that began their dance to the reunification of their flesh. As it was, the heat between them was a promise for the future. Will had been holding his hand aside, likely trying to save Hannibal's satin waistcoat from dog hair, but Hannibal grasped that hand and led it to his hip. A little dog hair wouldn't hurt anyone, especially when Will's fingers gripped onto him tightly at the silent acceptance of this important aspect of Will's life.

 

They kissed for an immeasurable amount of time until their lips were swollen and Winston had trotted out of the room in boredom. Left alone, Hannibal struggled to fight his desire to claim Will now. It was even more of a challenge to hold back when he knew Will would not stop him from stripping him naked and pressing in. Instead Hannibal lifted the hem of Will's borrowed shirt and kissed around the bandaging on his abdomen, wishing for a speedier recovery.

 

Hannibal was half-hard when he finally pulled back and got off the bed entirely, and it was easy to see the bulge of Will's interest in his pants. Hannibal rested his hand over Will's cock just long enough to feel it harden further beneath his touch and watch Will's eyelashes flutter. Then he helped Will get out of bed, into the bathroom and stripped down.

 

"Hannibal," Will began when Hannibal turned towards the door to give Will privacy. Hannibal looked back easily and watched Will run his hands nervously through his hair. "Will you shower with me?"

 

"I will not risk injuring you," Hannibal said bluntly. They both knew that if Hannibal joined Will in the shower they would have sex.

 

"You won't," Will said with certainty. "I could... sit," he suggested meekly.

 

Territory they had not yet explored, but Hannibal was not displeased by Will's hesitant proposition. After all, Hannibal had never tasted anything as addicting as Will's flesh and pleasure before in his life. Without words Hannibal peeled off his clothes; if Will thought Hannibal's movements were a little more rushed than normal, he didn't comment on it.

 

Hannibal sat Will down on the tiled seat in the shower and turned the shower on to a burning cascade. The shower filled with steam and fogged the glass to make their already-private moment feel even more intimate. Hannibal devoured Will's mouth again just as slowly as before, savouring each brush, lick and moan. He sucked a few dark marks high on Will's neck; they no longer had anything to hide.

 

Will moaned loudly when Hannibal slid to his knees between Will's legs, the sound echoing off the wet glass and tile. Hannibal wrapped his lips around Will's length and sucked deeply, quickly bringing his partner to full hardness. He kept a hand on Will's hip to keep him from bucking up and straining the stitching on his side. The pressure of his hand only seemed to give Will more pleasure as he cried out and buried his fingers in Hannibal's wet hair.

 

Hannibal's other hand reached down to stroke himself, hand slick from the falling water. Each of Will's gasps and moans of Hannibal's name had his cock throbbing in his grasp. It felt as though every nerve in his body was on fire. Will's nails scraped against his scalp as his body curled around Hannibal, his hips twitching as Will was wound closer to the breaking point.

 

The salt of Will's precome teased Hannibal's palette. Hannibal relaxed his throat and sank his mouth lower until his lips brushed the wet, wiry curls of hair around Will's base. His tongue lapped against the thick vein on the underside of Will's cock and then, after a deep breath through his nose, Hannibal sucked hard and began to drag his mouth back towards Will's crown. A loud whimper was Hannibal's only warning before sticky come filled his mouth and coated his tongue. The taste of Will's pleasure was an aphrodisiac to Hannibal's senses and as he worked on swallowing down each rope of come, Hannibal's body shuddered through his own release.

 

Hannibal remained on his knees when Will tugged at his hair and leaned down to kiss him. Hannibal parted his lips and allowed Will's curious tongue to lick into his mouth and taste himself. Then Will held Hannibal's hand and lapped away Hannibal's own seed with broad strokes of his tongue, dark eyes never straying from Hannibal's own.

 

When they were both fully sated, Hannibal rubbed soap across both of their bodies – taking significantly longer to work his soapy fingers into knots across Will's thighs, back and neck. Shampoo, conditioner, and another few minutes of kissing under the shower's spray followed. Only when their fingers turned pruny did they surrender and leave the shower to bundle up in soft towels and change into new clothes.

 

Will was able to move around the house on his own now as long as he moved slowly and took care to use the support of the wall or Hannibal when needed. Will followed Hannibal into the kitchen and sat slowly on one of the stools at the kitchen island. Winston was asleep by the back door where he must've settled to watch the world beyond the window. Hannibal expected to find Will watching the dog when he turned, but Hannibal instead found Will watching him.

 

More specifically: Hannibal's hands. Will had begun a new habit of studying Hannibal's hands closely while he worked; not with fear but with curious reverence. The hands of a doctor – to save lives; of a chef – to create; of an artist – to capture and display; of a killer – to destroy; of a lover – to cherish.

 

Hannibal continued with his work of creating a large brunch with eggs, bacon and toast, allowing Will to watch. He wouldn't allow the eggs to burn, but Hannibal gave Will his full attention when the other man spoke up over the sound of the bacon sizzling. "My original goal was to bring you to justice," Will spoke haltingly, careful with his words. "Yours was to make me the same as you. I killed Randall Tier but I didn't kill Freddie Lounds."

 

"And you wanted to kill Mason Verger but you did not," Hannibal added.

 

Will's fingers drummed on the quartz island surface in agitation and self-doubt. Hannibal took the two skillets off the burners entirely and turned his body to face Will. "What will you do if I won't – or can't become like you?" Will's eyes were focused on Hannibal's cheek. "If I refuse to ever kill intentionally again?"

 

In the past this would have been a difficult question to answer, but no longer. "The same as you did regarding the revelation of my nature," Hannibal assured Will as he moved slowly around the width of the island. Will tracked his approach. "Understand, respect, accept and adapt."

 

"And if I want to become something new entirely?" Will wondered, meeting Hannibal's gaze through his lashes when Hannibal stood at his side.

 

"I think you will find it quite troublesome to get rid of me," Hannibal said; tone playful, meaning serious. Will didn't shy away from the heavy words. In fact he leaned closer, resting his forehead against Hannibal's chest. Will's arms wound around Hannibal's waist and Hannibal linked his arms loosely around Will's shoulders, his fingers curling one damp curl around his finger. "I have only ever wanted you to choose and pursue who you want to become. I know I will always love the result." He kissed the top of Will's head. "Will you share your metamorphosis with me?"

 

"Of course," Will mumbled against Hannibal's vest. He tilted his head back so their eyes met. "You are the igniting flame, after all," Will smiled, "You will always be part of who I become."

 

"And you, me."

 

They sealed it with a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

The air was thick with the late summer's heat. The droning buzz of bugs' wings as they hovered just off the ground filled the quiet world, punctuated by an occasional song of a passing bird. Hannibal found Will in one of the smooth wood lawn chairs he had moved to the edge of the deck. Will's bare toes curled in the grass, lush under his feet. The family of dogs were spread out across the lawn, dozing contently in the sun, and dashing down to splash in the shallows of the water when they needed to cool off before returning back to the grass.

 

He saw that Will's hands were busy with threading some feathers into the new fly which was his current project. Will had taken one of the smaller rooms in the cottage across from Hannibal's study and converted it into a workshop where he kept all of his materials for creating lures and flies, as well as his fishing gear. However, even though the windows in the workshop could be opened wide, Will frequently brought his work outside whenever the weather permitted.

 

Once per week, Will and Hannibal would attend the local market. The first time had been when Will's body was still recovering, stitches only newly removed. Will had rested heavily on Hannibal's arm while Hannibal picked out some fresh produce for the week of their meals. Will's eye had been caught by the table of newly-caught fish for sale and Hannibal had allowed the detour easily.

 

Hannibal had seen how being cooped up in the house while he recovered was driving Will to the edge of madness. Boredom was a deadlier virus than even the turbulent changes Will had recently undergone in his mental state. After Will had asked Hannibal about becoming something new, Will had said little else on the matter. Hannibal had wanted to ask but refused to provoke the caged animal when it could not yet act on its new instincts.

 

Will and the fisherman fell into detailed discussion about the fishing in the sea. They had not yet purchased a boat but Hannibal knew Will was as eager to attempt fishing in the sea as he was to wade through the streams Hannibal had researched a few hours away from their house. With Will distracted, Hannibal gently led Will to rest his weight on the table and disappeared into the crowds to finish getting the vegetables and meats he wanted. It was a disconcerting adjustment to no longer have a supply of human meat, but Hannibal managed.

 

When he returned to the fisherman's table, Hannibal found Will and the older gentleman shaking hands. That was how Will got his first commission to create a lure. The next week Will and Hannibal returned to market and Will handed the newly-crafted lure to the fisherman. It didn't take long after that for word to spread. Locals ordered unique lures and flies, and then a second, third, and fourth. Those from further afield began to attend the market to place their orders. Those with experience could easily recognize master craftsmanship when present.

 

Hannibal was happy for it. He was relieved that Will had something to focus on while his body healed. Plus, it was always wonderful to watch Will pursue one of his passions; it didn't have to be the slicing of flesh from bone. It soon became habit that each week while Hannibal collected their groceries, Will would exchange lures and flies for money and would scribble down new orders in a notebook he could slip in the back pocket of his jeans.

 

"That is a lovely one," Hannibal praised as he stood behind Will's chair, hand resting affectionately on the back of Will's neck. The centrepiece of the fly was a brass bead holding the end of a striped hawk feather. Hannibal remembered Will stooping down to collect that feather where he had seen it resting on the back deck.

 

"Back already?" Will asked. He didn't look away from his work but he leaned his head back slightly into Hannibal's touch.

 

"I cancelled my last two clients for the day as we have plans this evening," Hannibal explained while he carded his fingers through the soft curls at the base of Will's skull. Hannibal had set up a small practice in the nearest urban city approximately thirty minutes away by car. Not out of any financial necessity – he only went three days of each week – but just to satiate his enjoyment of viewing and manipulating the inner workings of peoples' minds. He had found his mate in Will and would never desire another. His practice now was merely for entertainment. That, and both he and Will still enjoyed time apart as much as together.

 

"We aren't planning to leave until after dinner."

 

The clock was just shy of noon. "My two afternoon clients are terribly dull." Hannibal leaned closer and breathed in Will's natural scent mixed with the smell of the nearby sea. "Gardening will bring me more pleasure this afternoon."

 

Hannibal had already changed out of his suit when he arrived home, choosing a more casual pair of pants with a light cotton button-up shirt that could flutter in the breeze. He left Will in the chair and walked over to the garden he had built up around the side of the house. Winston, who had always taken most fondly to Hannibal of all Will's dogs, lifted himself from the grass and trotted along with him. Hannibal did not mind the company.

 

A large expanse of the garden was for vegetables and herbs he cultivated throughout the year. It had taken some tiring, sweaty days to dig up the grass, put in soil and fertilizer and circle the garden with a row of smooth rocks chosen from the shoreline. Hannibal enjoyed the manual labour though, keeping his body strong and active despite the pause from a hunt. Hannibal had taken such satisfaction in digging out his garden that he ended up with extra space, and had chosen to plant some of his favourite flowers.

 

The sun's heat was unrelenting and Hannibal took his time watering every inch of his garden. When he reached the lush section of flowers Hannibal's gaze lingered on the stone propped up in the centre of the patch of forget-me-nots. It was a stone nearly the size of a dinner plate, surface smooth from the water it had resided in until Will had noticed it and plucked it up.

 

Hannibal remembered watching Will use a smaller, jagged rock in one hand to carve out Abigail's name, date of birth and death date on the rock's surface before it was placed in the garden. He remembered cleaning Will's bloody palm from gripping the jagged rock edges too tightly while he worked. Hannibal remembered the way Will had breathed out slowly and deeply, letting go as much as possible, and the way Will had rested against Hannibal on the couch afterwards.

 

If it had been another day Hannibal might suggest they go out fishing using their new boat. Hannibal wasn't a fisherman and only indulged Will's monologues explaining technique and different flies because Hannibal adored hearing the other man speak about one of his passions. However, Hannibal did not need to enjoy the act of fishing to willingly go out with Will. The sensation of the boat bobbing in the waves was relaxing. And even though the coastline was always within view, Hannibal could pretend out on the water that there was no one in the world except himself and Will.

 

Today they had plans, so instead of suggesting the boat, Hannibal finished with the garden and then went inside while Winston returned to lounging by Will's feet. Hannibal set the steaks to marinate and prepped all of the vegetables so they would be ready to slip into the oven in plenty of time. Then he made a quick lunch to share with Will outside, both of them silent. Their thoughts were focused on what was to come tonight. Hannibal could feel the tense excitement coursing between them in their silence. They did not need to speak to be thinking the same thoughts.

 

With everything prepared for that night and the steaks marinating, Hannibal spent the afternoon sketching Will. A subject he never grew weary of. At times he thought Will might grow tired of Hannibal's eyes constantly resting on him, but Will never told Hannibal to stop.

 

After dinner Will fed the dogs and Hannibal set their bag of supplies in the back seat of their secondary car they normally kept out of sight in the garage. The air was still warm but Hannibal added a waistcoat and tie to his outfit while Will kept his same jeans and t-shirt. They drove off as the sun embraced the horizon. The interior of the car buzzed with anticipation. It was a forty minute drive to their destination; a bustling town further up the coast. As Hannibal parked a five minute walk away from the town's tavern, the _Laughing Crossroads_ , Will grabbed the bag from the back seat and took out the sheathed hunting knife he had bought specifically for this night.

 

"Will."

 

"This one is mine."

 

"I would not presume to steal a kill from you," Hannibal said. He removed his hand from the gear shift and instead slid his fingers beneath the hem of Will's shirt. The skin of Will's abdomen was warm and taut, blemished only by the raised scar tissue. Hannibal's finger caressed that small scar.

 

Will rested a hand on top of Hannibal's through his shirt, stilling his thoughts and concern. "You know I'll be fine."

 

Will's stab wound had long since healed with time and the care of an invested doctor. Hannibal had no reason to object. "I know," Hannibal agreed and removed his hand.

 

With a small smile Will hooked the hunting knife to the waist of his pants. Out in rural locations like this it was not uncommon for people to carry knives or hunting rifles when out after dark for fear of dangerous, hungry animals. "I'll see you soon," Will said in farewell and exited the car.

 

Hannibal's instinct was to trail Will and not leave his side, but he contained his irrational fears and drove off. Two months ago there had been a murder in a neighbouring town. One month ago there had been another. In small towns, news spread and law enforcement was more lazy, which meant it was easy to edge close enough in the gathering crowd of onlookers to get a glimpse of the crime scene. Especially when it became known that Hannibal had knowledge of human anatomy.

 

Both victims had been young men, mid-thirties at the latest. Each was relatively lithe with brown hair. They were found naked in a motel room with their throats slashed open, blood soaking the sheets around them in a stained aura. There was evidence of coupling between their legs judging by the stretch of skin, but the killer had taken a considerable amount of time wiping down the room and the body of any DNA and must've worn a condom.

 

The killer was adequate but nothing special; it would only take so long for law enforcement to pin it down. Fortunately, Will was faster. Will had a profile in his mind's eye from the crime scene he had seen glimpses of, and it had slotted into place easily when, by chance, the killer came strolling through their local market. Hannibal had been away getting groceries at the time but Will told him later of the tall, lean man with black hair and hungry, unfeeling blue eyes.

 

"I travel around some weekends to hunt," the man had said after catching Will's eye and approaching boldly. "We should have drinks sometime," he had added after Will declared his own budding interest in hunting. The man – Harold, he proclaimed – provided a date and the name, _Laughing Crossroads_ , and had touched Will's shoulder far too freely.

 

Adequate enough at cleaning up after himself. Shamefully poor at recognizing other predators.

 

There was only one motel on the edge of town. The hotels were too close to the city centre and Will insisted that Harold would not take Will home. "Separation of church and state," Will had mused. "He takes great pleasure in this but does not want it to mingle with his carefully organized life."

 

It was easy to find which motel room belonged to Harold. There were only three rooms booked for that evening. One was occupied by a couple very loudly abusing the bed, and of the two empty rooms when Hannibal investigated, only one stunk of the scent that had clung to Will's shirt when Hannibal rejoined his side at the marketplace after Harold's approach. Hannibal ensured there were no hidden weapons or traps and then re-locked the door as he exited the room and parked two doors down.

 

An hour later a car pulled up in the motel lot. Hannibal slunk down in his seat and out of sight as Harold exited his car, Will in tow. Harold's laugh was boisterous and Hannibal gritted his teeth, remaining where he was. He was familiar with the stealth and patience required in a hunt; it was more challenging to enact when his lover was displaying himself as bait. But at the same time Hannibal knew Will could take care of himself. They were equals, after all.

 

The motel room door was slammed shut. Hannibal waited for a silent count of thirty. His heart throbbed each beat in his chest and made it ring in his ears. When time was up Hannibal moved fluidly from his car and stepped inside the motel room on silent feet, locking the door to the outside world behind him. The ceiling light glared a halo over the picture of Will holding Harold down on the bed, black leather gloves on his hands – a present from Hannibal to hide his fingerprint whenever necessary. Based on their positioning, Hannibal was out of Harold's awareness, too wrapped up in the man above him.

 

Harold was struggling but only weakly. Perhaps the man had indulged in too much liquid courage before bringing Will back to the motel, but Hannibal suspected Harold's lack of fight was because he hadn't yet recognized the danger he was in. Judging by the gyrating of his hips up against Will's body, Hannibal believed this was most likely. Will only glanced over his shoulder long enough to confirm it was Hannibal watching before turning back to his task. This was Will's kill; Hannibal was merely given the rare gift of being allowed to watch Will in action.

 

Will was being careful to only hold Harold down enough to keep him in place with an air of playful teasing. No bruises would linger. No marks of a struggle. "I brought my knife with me," Will told Harold, not stopping the movement of Harold's hips. "Do you want to see?" Harold nodded frantically. Hannibal understood. The sultry lilt of Will's voice he used so rarely could drape a warm haze over Hannibal's mind as well.

 

With expert fingers Will pulled the knife from his hip and slid it free of the sheath. The blade caught the unnatural light and gleamed beautifully. "Would you like to hold it?" Again, Harold nodded, unknowingly sealing his fate. Permission granted, Will pressed the knife's handle into Harold's palm and curled his fingers around Harold's own.

 

The next moment was painted red as Will led Harold's hand with ruthless speed to gash the blade across his throat. Harold's cry drowned in his blood and came out as a wet gurgle. Will continued to use his weight to keep Harold on the bed despite his thrashing until his body stilled. Although Hannibal was not close enough to see details, he knew Will held Harold's gaze until the man's eyes dimmed.

 

The whole thing happened in what felt like the blink of an eye. Will did not explain his reasoning to Harold because he didn't need Harold to comprehend. Will didn't demand an explanation because it was very likely that Will understood Harold's thoughts and motivations for his actions better than Harold himself did. And Will certainly did not wait for an apology or plea that Harold regretted his actions and would change because words meant much less to Will than actions did.

 

Harold had been judged and deemed unworthy of life.

 

Will had enacted his judgement.

 

The being who rose from the bed coated in another's blood was not human. Will was a god of justice, ethereal and breathtaking. Will, who knew people better than themselves, determined who deserved protection and who needed to be weeded out. He would willingly and gladly take a life if it was justified and protected the lives of others more well-meaning and innocent. Hannibal imagined wings spreading from Will's back from the design Hannibal had traced into his skin all those months ago. Hannibal shuddered with desire at the mental image and his pride in his mate.

 

A part of Hannibal longed to slice Harold open. He would make an exquisite banquet to celebrate Will. But Will had already stated his design and nothing was to be removed from his body. Hannibal held back in respect. It was laughably easy for Will to recreate his design from his imagination, having studied so many crime scenes in the past. In a few moments Harold was the tableau of remorseful suicide, bloodied knife remaining in a limp hand. Will had ensured Harold would never hurt anyone else and had also been brought to justice; the loved ones of his victims would be given some small comfort in the knowledge of the killer's death.

 

Will was not angered by Hannibal stepping closer to admire the scene. Nor did he object when Hannibal scoured the room one final time to ensure no hint of their presence remained before they left the room. Hannibal locked the door one final time and barely contained his smile when he imagined the moment of discovery the following morning when the cleaners arrived to tend to the rooms.

 

Hannibal took a few detours home to be safe, even though no one had witnessed their presence at the motel. They rode in silence while Will grabbed the supply bag and used a towel to wipe the blood from his face and neck. His shirt and jeans would require a few cycles in the wash if Will insisted on salvaging them, bloodstained as they were.

 

As soon as they drove into the garage and the door lowered behind them, Hannibal leaned over and breathed deeply. His nose crinkled. He couldn't even smell Will's essence beneath the sickening cologne of Harold's scent. "You smell of him," he rumbled with displeasure.

 

Will huffed and unclipped his seatbelt. "Well maybe if you give me five minutes to shower..."

 

Before Hannibal could say anything in retaliation Will had exited the car and disappeared into the house. Realizing that Will needed some time to himself after what he had just done, Hannibal busied himself with cleaning the passenger seat of any blood and then took the supply bag inside. Will had left his bloodied clothes on the floor outside the bathroom and Hannibal could hear the shower's spray. Hannibal filled the laundry basin with water and dropped Will's clothes and the towel in to soak before going to their bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

Will came to him in his own time, naked and dripping little puddles of water across the floor in his approach. In the dim lighting it might've been difficult for anyone else to tell, but for Hannibal it was easy to notice the red rimming Will's eyes. He lifted his hands and Will walked into his embrace, arms looping around Hannibal's shoulders while Hannibal held his waist.

 

"Do you doubt yourself?" Hannibal wondered.

 

Will's inward breath was shaky, but his answer was not. "No."

 

Hannibal kissed Will's chest and down to his scar. He loathed this scar for the version of himself it would not let him forget, but he loved Will for bearing the scar and moving on stronger than ever. Will led Hannibal's face up with a hand under his chin and Hannibal met Will's kiss halfway. While they kissed, Will unwound Hannibal's tie, undid each button of Hannibal's shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. Hannibal gladly shrugged out of it entirely and undid his pants with a quick flick at the clasp.

 

Will pushed Hannibal onto his back and tugged his pants and underwear down and off. Hannibal moved to the centre of the bed and Will pursued him. But instead of mounting Hannibal, Will grasped his shoulders with needy fingers and pulled Hannibal on top of him on the bed. "I need you to subdue me," Will pleaded as his hand led Hannibal's down to his swollen length. Will shivered upon contact, even though Hannibal did not immediately begin to stroke him.

 

"You may spread your wings, Will."

 

Will smiled sadly in thanks but shook his head. "Only when it is needed. I need you to bind me back to the earth." Even though Will had accepted this primal part of his nature, Will feared it if released fully from the leash. Will would do what was necessary to save the lives of others but insisted he not be allowed to rise too high above the world he protected. He feared what he would become if he completely lost his modesty.

 

Hannibal couldn't deny being saddened by Will's self-restraint, but he had fallen in love with the man as much as the animal. If Will trusted him to, Hannibal would devotedly hold his leash. "Hannibal, _please_. I need this from you."

 

Without a word Hannibal flipped Will onto his stomach and then hooked hands on his hips to drag Will up onto his hands and knees. He moved a hand between Will's legs and stroked his cock a few times with a tight grip. Will arched his back in a beautiful display for Hannibal and shuffled his legs wider apart to accommodate Hannibal's touch.

 

Hannibal smiled at how quickly Will hardened in his hand. Between the dizzying power Will was radiating from his kill and his eager desire to submit and be held down, Will's whole body was trembling beneath Hannibal's touch. He could never grow tired of how sensitive Will was to his touch and Hannibal pressed fond kisses to the two dimples at the base of Will's spine.

 

He continued to mouth at Will's skin until Will whined his need for more. Hannibal collected lube from their bedside table but even two slicked-up fingers pushing inside his body was not enough for Will in this moment. Hannibal watched Will's fingers claw at the bed sheets as he fought his internal struggle. The blood-quenched animal told Will to rear back and fight, to not kneel so weakly.

 

Knowing what Will needed him to do, Hannibal rested the flat of his palm between Will's shoulder blades and shoved him down even as his lubed fingers shoved deeper. Will's body resisted for an instant before his limbs willingly gave out, air knocked from his lungs as he hit the mattress. No one else would ever see Will like this. Will would only trust this need with someone who always saw him as an equal, even now.

 

Three fingers was the normal prep Hannibal used to make penetration comfortable for Will. Tonight Will was not looking for comfort or a smooth intrusion. Hannibal stretched his two fingers to loosen Will and spread lube and then coated his own length. He dragged Will's ass back up into the air, Will now on his knees and forearms. Hannibal gripped himself and rubbed the crown of his cock teasingly against Will's hole just to hear him beg for it.

 

He entered Will slowly, feeling the tight flesh clench and then relax around him slowly. Will hissed air through his teeth but didn't ask Hannibal to stop. With a constant pressure from his hips, Hannibal sunk into Will's body at an even pace. He could feel Will's body fighting the intrusion but Hannibal pressed on, forcing entry until he was fully seated with his hips against Will's ass.

 

In the few brief moments Hannibal provided for Will to adjust, Hannibal grabbed his discarded tie from the end of the bed. He looped the fabric around Will's neck and held both ends of satin in one hand, his other hand gripping indents into Will's hip. With his cock fully encased in Will's heat, Hannibal pulled back with the tie until Will bent his head in submission, his back bowing sharply.

 

"You are mine," Hannibal proclaimed as he leaned over Will's body, shoving his cock in deeper. Will whimpered and then moaned happily when Hannibal licked the pulse point on his neck before biting down.

 

Will's ass clenched rhythmically around Hannibal as arousal coursed through him. Hannibal began an animalistic rut against Will's ass while he bit and sucked at the darkening mark on Will's neck. "Yours," Will choked out. " _Yours_."

 

Satisfied, Hannibal abandoned the tie and flattened Will fully against the bed. Hannibal's hands rested on Will's biceps as his chest draped over Will's back. He would consider tying Will down but did not have the restraint to pull out of Will's body now that they were joined. For now he thrust in hard and rough, brutalizing Will's prostate and drinking in each cry of pleasure that escaped Will's lips.

 

Hannibal knew that Will bucked up and strained against his hold just to feel Hannibal pin him down more forcefully and Hannibal obliged. He claimed Will's ass and bit more savage marks onto the beautiful planes of Will's back and shoulders. The bed rocked with their sway and Hannibal could tell Will was getting close between the tightening of his ass and the harsh panting filling the room.

 

On the brink of orgasm Will tried to get his knees under him, nearly dislodging Hannibal. " _Down_ ," Hannibal commanded as he fucked Will back into the mattress and with a strangled groan and a violent twitch of his hips, Will spilled himself across the sheets. Hannibal fucked Will through it, dragging in air and ignoring his hair as it fell in his eyes. Each clench of Will's ass around his cock drove him to the edge but there was something he needed first. "To whom do I belong?" Hannibal questioned as he nuzzled Will's neck.

 

"Me," Will answered with a trembling purr as his body finally slumped and became fully pliant for Hannibal to claim and use.

 

Hannibal came in a rush and buried his seed deep inside Will's body with a few jerky thrusts. Even when he was spent, Hannibal refused to dismount Will or let him up. His hands skidded through the sweat on Will's back, thumbs pressing curiously down on bruising mouth-shaped marks. Will remained relaxed beneath him and welcomed every touch. Only when Hannibal had fully softened inside Will did he withdraw and grab some tissues to wipe them both and the sheets clean enough until morning.

 

Will was a boneless heap and did not fuss when Hannibal pulled him under the blankets and into a warm embrace. Hannibal nosed against Will's neck and breathed in deep, content that Will only smelled of himself and Hannibal now. Will was already dozy as adrenaline seeped out of his veins and Hannibal held him closer as Will's breath calmed.

 

"Next one is yours," Will offered before yawning tiredly.

 

Hannibal smiled and held Will a little tighter. "Ours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Thank you for reading and, for those who took the time, thank you so much for commenting on my story ^.^

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Following this story on Tumblr under #fic: change me


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